Can you recall the last time you sat at a table,
Having breakfast by yourself, naked,
In an isolated cabin, on the shore of a rioting lake,
So entranced by your sense of release
That nothing else mattered,
Other than that what you were having for breakfast
Was what your body had been craving, for millenniums?
I can, since I'm doing so, right now, gazing out over a lake
Whose waves are engaged in an atavistic rage,
Hoping to break from their banks, escape into the woods.
I'm satisfying my primal appetite, with baby lettuces —
Red and green romaine, oak leaf, and chard;
Lollo Rossa, red leaf, and Tango;
Mizuna, arugula, mâche, frisée, and radicchio —
Organically grown, succulent lettuces,
To which I've added a healthy helping of cherry tomatoes,
Also raised without pesticide sprays.
This very minute, I feel a kindredness, with my surrounds,
So unequivocally pure, so whole, so unadulterated,
That the wind, water, trees, grass, the very food I'm eating,
Are an integral part of me. I am nature.
05/20/09 - (2)