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.
