(Thank you for making the world a little smaller and humanity a little more connected)

The poets are serving Manna bread and honey mead
come in – sit down at our table and
sip a warm mug of clove mulled metaphors.
The commas are browning up nicely in the toaster
and the poems that were bubbling
hot and crispy in our collective oven
are now cooling fragrant on the hearth.
This aroma makes crinkles in the corners of Life’s eyes.