Breakfast

Outside, the dark whispy

wind shivers up the spines

of lawn-grass at night.

The predawn air is riddled

with insects, burrowing

hastily under thick dirt blankets

to curl up on pill-bug pillows.

A thin veil of cloud obscures the moon...

slip slop, padded slippers

plod their way across a carpet

inside a toasty-warm skillet-house

laid flatly, like a slab of ham on a plate

upon the whispery field.

The subtle hum of a refrigerator-

stopped!

A slam of a plate upon marble countertops

obscures the sound of a closing door.

Disembodied fingers pour even batter

into a waffle-maker,

then reach up the be licked

by a disembodied tongue.

A blue light on the gas stove reveals

the whole body,

dead to the world; a zombie hungry for waffles

and eggs

and the smell of crispy bacon sizzling in

the frying pan

and the pieces of toast that

Pop!

from the toaster just like

the sun outside

Pop!s

out from the underside of the earth

to reveal a freshly mown lawn

and a pill-bug

climbing a blade of grass.

http://www.taracelebrations.org/download/pictures/-_Summer_Solstice/summer_solstice_predawn_sunrise_08.jpg