Bun in the Oven | Kenneth Vincent Walker
I always feel an emptiness
Without a bun in the oven,
Without a poem in progress,
Which is truly my salvation.
For the low swooping raven
Seeks to hinder my success.
My poems are my children,
And it’s in them that I rest.
My life has just one purpose,
To rise above the cauldron
With some grace and finesse,
As I hear my children calling.
