Poem #4 for National Poetry Month.
I missed posting it by midnight, but I wrote it before midnight--honest! I was having trouble logging on! Grrr....anyway, here is April 4th's entry.

Crumb Buckets

Crumbs, all I see are crumbs!

What I eat turns into

Fine annoyances that fill

The cracks up on my floor and in my home

Too small to catch or throw away

I forget to gather it

After my haste fraught meal

So it sits there

Where I walk by it

Thinking I’ll clean it up

When I have the time

Who has the time these days?

Is the fabric thinly laid

Over my frail excuse

Smothering the will to sweep up of what’s left

A delight so carefully constructed for energy today

Tomorrow or the shoring up of days to come

Who knows when I eat again?

There may only be those crumbs left

And so, I leave them be

To be swept up some other day

When I am very full