Poetry

FIRST BITE

The oven heats the room
fills the air with savory scents
of cooking meat, spices,
succulent drops of juice flow
my mouth waters and my stomach whines.
I am a patient hunter
I fight the urge to open the door and look
to breathe in that delicious taste
and wallow in the flavors that flood my mind.
I nibble on crisp slices of apple
I gnaw on carrots and tiny corn
I wait and watch the timer tick
as the meat roasts and the vegetables bloom.
It seems like forever to wait;
the oven is a smiling maw
the heat makes my skin cringe as I reach inside
freeing the hot, steaming pan of food.
The meat melts like butter to the knife
the juices pour across the vegetables;
I mix a tasty gravy to drizzle across the top
and dig in with my fork, relishing the first bite.