Poems
by Russell Fee

 

 

Toast

 

Fresh bread is sweet, soft, and moist.

Melt-in-your-mouth, almost.

So why would you want to make toast?

 

The morphing from a toaster's roasting

Is like turning honey into rice.

So why would you do that to a slice?

 

The wait for that hop from the appliance's slot,

Robs you of what matters most.

So why would you ruin a loaf?

 

Toast if you must,

But don't bother with butter.

It wasn’t churned for dust.

 

 

 

 

 

French Toast

 

It’s been around forever,

This ubiquitous recipe

 

Of bread and milk and eggs

Pan fried in oil until crunchy.

 

Aliter Dulcia the Romans

Drizzled with honey to make sweet.

 

Pain Perdu the French

Serve as an after-dinner treat.

 

Torrijas the Spanish

Prepare as a special Easter spread.

 

Eggy Bread the English

Often trade a muffin for the bread.

 

Sai Do Si the Chinese

Stuff with jam or peanut butter.

 

French Toast the Americans

Dust with clouds of powdered sugar.

 

Arme Ritter the Germans

Have savored since the Brothers Grimm.

 

Fattiga Riddare the Swedes

Snack with sugary cinnamon.

 

Wherever you may find it,

And it’s likely that you will,

 

You mustn’t ever pass on

This gustatory thrill.

 

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