You are the bread and the knife, <br /> The crystal goblet and the wine... <br /> -Jacques Crickillon <br /> <br />You are the bread and the knife, <br />the crystal goblet and the wine. <br />You are the dew on the morning grass <br />and the burning wheel of the sun. <br />You are the white apron of the baker, <br />and the marsh birds suddenly in flight. <br /> <br />However, you are not the wind in the orchard, <br />the plums on the counter, <br />or the house of cards. <br />And you are certainly not the pine-scented air. <br />There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air. <br /> <br />It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge, <br />maybe even the pigeon on the general's head, <br />but you are not even close <br />to being the field of cornflowers at dusk. <br /> <br />And a quick look in the mirror will show <br />that you are neither the boots in the corner <br />nor the boat asleep in its boathouse. <br /> <br />It might interest you to know, <br />speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, <br />that I am the sound of rain on the roof. <br /> <br />I also happen to be the shooting star, <br />the evening paper blowing down an alley <br />and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table. <br /> <br />I am also the moon in the trees <br />and the blind woman's tea cup. <br />But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife. <br />You are still the bread and the knife. <br />You will always be the bread and the knife, <br />not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine. <br /> <br /> <br />Anonymous submission.<br /><br />William Taylor Collins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/litany-2/
