Breakfast

Breakfast

I’ve always wondered
about this word,
as if sleep is a fast
not rich in dreams.
But on this final day
of silent retreat
as close to ascetics
as Episcopalians venture,
putting words to sleep
so the sibling senses
may ride in front,
I am anxious
to reach the destination,
that Sunday feast
at grandmother’s table
where a dozen conversations
are all at once,
so here, with the elation
of spirits raised
we break the fast.

14 Mar 04

© Copyright 2004, E. Granger-Happ, All Rights Reserved.

Contents - Lent, 2004

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