After Shoveling. Again.

The drive is cleared of snow
To a standard that I would have judged
Not quite two months ago
But now I find miraculous.
I lift my thanks
For big kid boots
And even better, for
A young adult who’s home for break
(one which we’ll have to name as “winter,”since it clearly isn’t spring).

Enter cravings.
I want bacon. I want eggs.
I want sausage, fried potatoes, ham.
I want cheese and corned beef hash.
I want hollandaise
And bacon rounds
And English muffins
And a barrel full of coffee.
I want carbs and fat and salt
And I won’t tolerate a glimpse
Of greens.

Not good for me, you say?
What matter?
All I ask is that this diet kill me
Before the dread arrival
Of another winter storm.

This poem is not, technically, part of my Lenten poem-prayer project, but I suppose it could be labeled a heart-felt lament.

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