Said a Terd upon the sink,

‘I am so dry, I need a drink.’

I grabbed a pan, in which to boil it,

Butt first he jumped into the toilet.

Drinking and swimming upon the water,

He stretched, and burped, and sank down under.

In his haste he rushed it,

And his waste, I flushed it.

Feed a man a fish and he eats one lunch

Teach someone to read and watch them Hunt

Feeling past the future for fishing fields alive

Finding fowl, beef, vegetables, and chives.

Bread is stored grain grown inside minds oven

Heated paste cooked into food tastes like heaven

Words woven back and forth are formed within

A restaurant open at owners whim.

Plates of truth and mystery and joy

Love filling empty yearning holes

Faith and hope for tomorrow’s lunch

Life lived large with sip and munch.

Hold my book of poems between your arms

It’s full of word soup becoming warmed

Chasing fear and lonely cold far away

Comfy cozy snuggled into next day.

Fresh food awaiting hunger within or without

I hunt for banquets, not only for trout.