Cold Bread Pip

A Poem In Three Parts

Bread please?

COLD

It’s like hiking, my dog and me

Only I never seem to be ready for

the cold. Like I used to be

When I was on the trail

Something about being in the neighborhood

With the dog makes me weak.

BREAD

So I try to duplicate the feeling of the dirt

Rip a huge hunk of fresh, crusty bread

Shove it in my parka pocket like dessert

Every little while, my hands brave the cold

And I munch on my bread, like a hiker

Eating and walking, striding under the lamps.

PIP

But when I munch, the dog stops, licks his lips

He likes bread too, loves bread, can’t walk without

I hand down a strip of crust and he grips

the cold bread. Soon there’s no bread, just me and the ice

and my dog. So we hike home, back to our trailhead, full up

It’s not really like hiking, but bread in the cold is worth it.