An Ode on Bacon

There is time to sit and wait

for the week to pass to late,
all the while eating bran
put off ‘til the day does come
the emergence of the pan
and the fading of the crumb.

On the fire, pan comes to heat
preparing to cook the meat.
To hear the quiet shuffle
of someone walking about.
The open wrapper, a muffle;
a favorite, I have no doubt.

Hear it! Sizzling and snapping
rouses one from their napping.
If you listen intently
to the crackles and the pops,
you hear it whisper gently
until it’s ready, then stops.

Out of the pan, on a plate,
a hunger it does create.
Eager for salty flavor,
anticipating the crunch;
Ah, the taste one does savor
wanting to eat a whole bunch.

Near the table, one’s transfixed
waiting for the morsels mixed
in the morning’s breakfast bowl;
A round of tricks one must make
down and stay (maintain control!)
sit, high-five and paw to shake.

Tricks are done, one last command,
the wait one can hardly stand.
Command does come, “You can eat!”
I spring right up to my feet;
devoured all, now replete…
Bacon is my favorite treat!