What are those brown objects in the bowl?
The salad green is easier to see.
Are they meat or are they Dover’s soul?
They’re not black so they cannot be coal
They don’t look like cherries heavenly
What are those brown objects in the bowl?
Underneath the Castle in a hole
A room was made as World War strategy
Where our government could hide if Hitler called,
To eat to please our mother is a goal
If we don’t trust, suspicion spoils our view
Of those dark objects in the salad bowl
My nephew picks them up, they are not moles
They’re salad spoons of wood, auspiciously.
They look neat, they are not dead brown wholes
When we ingest food we need to be
Trusting of the one who made the tea.
What are those two brown objects in the bowl?
Are they meat or are they two lost souls?
How my heart sings 