Food Poem: Breakfast by Joyce Sutphen

My father taught me how to eat breakfast
those mornings when it was my turn to help
him milk the cows. I loved rising up from

the darkness and coming quietly down
the stairs while the others were still sleeping.
I’d take a bowl from the cupboard, a spoon

from the drawer, and slip into the pantry
where he was already eating spoonfuls
of cornflakes covered with mashed strawberries

from our own strawberry fields forever.
Didn’t talk much—except to mention how
good the strawberries tasted or the way

those clouds hung over the hay barn roof.
Simple—that’s how we started up the day.

Joyce Sutphen, “Breakfast” from First Words, Red Dragonfly. from the Writer’s Almanac, Monday 9/13/21

A simple start to the day with a loved one is so comforting. What is your favorite morning ritual?

Strawberries – Food Poem by Paul Martin

It’s ripe strawberries that bring me
to my knees in the garden this morning,

impossibly big and red as those
on the covers of gardening magazines in January

and almost as sweet as the small wild ones
my brother and I picked up on Best’s Hill,

eating more than we dropped into the coffee cans
our mother fitted with wire handles.

If a cloud moved across that blue sky
casting a shadow, I didn’t notice,

the snakes we were warned about
never appeared, and who could see,

even in that brilliant light,
beyond the quiet hills all the way to Vietnam

and the war he’d carry back with him.
Heads down we browsed through the field

until we were filled and drowsy,
sprawled next to each other in the warm grass,

juice smeared across our T-shirts,
our mouths and hands.

“Strawberries” by Paul Martin from Closing Distances. © The Backwaters Press, 2009.