At One

I neatly peel the hard-cooked egg. The bread,
too fresh to slice, I tear in strips to stretch
as ragged bun. Fresh mayonnaise and salt
complete the menu for my simple meal.
A blackbird watches from the tree outside.
She plays she sieves the sun with those small twigs
held in her beak. (Do I imagine that?)
My mind relaxes seeing her. No need
for words comparing this to other worlds.
I eat my daily bread. It is enough.

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