I Ate The Cosmos For Breakfast

—After Thich Nhat Hanh


It looked like a pancake,
but it was creation flattened out—
the fist of God on a head of wheat,
milk, the unborn child of an unsuspecting
chicken — all beaten to batter and drizzled into a pan.
I brewed my tea and closed my eyes
while I ate the sun, the air, the rain,
photosynthesis on a plate.
I ate the time it took that chicken
to bear and lay her egg
and the energy it takes a cow to lactate a cup of milk.
I thought of the farmers, the truck drivers,
the grocers, the people who made the bag that stored the wheat,
and my labor over the stove seemed short,
and the pancake tasted good,
and I was thankful.

by Melissa Studdard

Other poems of STUDDARD (6)

Comments (8)

Yes - You'll recollect your friend wonderfully penned
Lovely poem showing the value and important of a gift is in this materialistic world.
Lovely poem. It shows how a small gift can bolster a relationship with a friend in the times to come. Thanks. I am tempted to translate it.
The little bag, a wonderful memento symbolizing the memory of friend as well as it's utility to keep a needle. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
We need to know more about the actual bag. Was it full of needles? Did it have a mirror on the outside? Otherwise it doesn't make much sense.
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