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Breakfast on the River
[Grayling, Aug 20, 2013]

Omelet called Hex, frightful word off-riviere
Its magic on water is certain when luck reigns.
Today it’s mere breakfast, yellow as a Robert’s Drake
Delicately colored (minus parachute)
For which there’s no need, I can see it on the plate
Tasting bitey same as its namesake, which Padre
Doled out, high priest of the real hex eaters
An event conferring luck lasting only so long,
Limited to riverine environs, he succumbed
To hot flames in a house far from water, or hope.
By the river we remember his benedictions
As the names pile up: Rusty. Shep. Craig. George. Ed. Padre.
That list that ends for each of us mere seconds
Before our name is added to the scrolling roll.


 
 
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