Bright eyed and bushy-tailed, I rise
and put on my brushed sterling silver
coat, hightail it down
to the breakfast buffet
to see the many marvels on display:
plates of pancakes, eggs,
provisions of oatmeal and French toast--
so many decisions! I tuck in
and swallow, gulp down my fill
with coffee and orange juice,
properly chilled.

When my stomach is bloated
and my thirst at last quenched,
I fill my pockets with small cartons
of yogurt, apples, bread for my lunch --
a winter's store of acorns pinched
without so much as a flinch.

This poem first appeared in Piker Press.
Used here with permission.