The dignity of breakfast
Belongs to all men -
All equal in the morning,
Bleary and hungry,
Still chewing on a dream
That seemed like someone else’s,
And gazing blankly
At the horizon of a day
That stretches ahead
Like unfamiliar country
Where shadows change
And men speak other tongues.
What then? Bacon and eggs.
And buttered toast and coffee dark as pain.
For some people, inexplicably,
A grapefruit; for others, pancakes,
And the sweet nectar of Vermont.
We are all the same at breakfast –
Kings enough to eat what we desire –
And wise enough to linger
Over a final sip of coffee
Before the day’s vicissitudes
Divide us into havers, havers-not,
And dreamers-of-having,
Who are perhaps luckiest of all,
Surveying a kingdom of hope every morning
And living all day in that kingdom
Till night takes the reins again.
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