I gaze across the river
to the trees up on Mt. Hood.
A pair of birds greet
the warm morning sun.
'What's on the agenda today
my dear friend? Same old thing
or perhaps something fun? '
'Well, we can fly to White Salmon
for breakfast and lunch. There's
a street there called 'Wyers'
it's perfect for us.
We'll split a mosquito
on toast with some jam
and be home in time
for dinner'.
Margaret Ann Newcomb
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brunch/
