Just For Today

Daily Leaven

He's at it again
that wise ole' baker
kneading the dough
wheat along with chaff
firing my daily loafs.
Some light, some dark
some marbled through and through.

While I sleep, in my pantry
He'll stack my daily ration
so when I awake I'll find my
four and twenty rounds,
no more no less, He's exact.
Some half, some fully baked,
some sweet, some vile.
Some a mix of
both smile and frown.

Would be a shame if
these rounds of the day
were miserly hoarded,
not shared by me,
in tight-lipped
fear of future pains
or memories of a wasteful past.

In gratefulness to
my wise ole' Baker,
I will not gorge, starve,
waste of hoard.
I'll sate my appetite
while I enjoy
the bounty of my daily
four and twenty rounds.
JF