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Sunday, February 18, 2018

Respite in the kitchen


Yesterday's breakfast lay hard and flat on the plate,
symbol of plenty or waste,
depending on the frame.
Snow drifts on the verge of the road,
the floured discs are thrown to the wind.
Sharp eyes find the offerings,
the frocked, iridescent ecclesiastics
dive to gather the holy rite in their sharp beaks
while Sunday's flock of gulls
circle in their wake.

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