Bacon Man

I arise to gentle rain on tin roof
coffee fogs the window
ducks tread softly on steamy lake
our Lab grins wide at new day
(animals seems to relish the morning)

she rattles about the kitchen
singing a Celtic song
until I, The Bacon Man
must fry the shrinking pork
(mastery of bacon eludes her)

no agenda clutters the serenity of dawn
no plans, just following our hearts
soon called back to brass bed
for the night's encore & the day's thanksgiving
(to love a lady so exquisite)