Every morning when I awaken,
I think about bringing God breakfast in bed.
As I set my feet onto the floor and step into my slippers,
I imagine brewing the coffee
and popping biscuits into the oven,
pouring a bowl of raisin bran,
dicing up pieces of cantaloupe and honeydew,
throwing in some plump berries I gathered in the woods,
and a big juicy full moon grapefruit on the side–
the fruits of my labor, so to speak.
Won’t I AM be delighted by my efforts.
But as soon as I am ready to head to the kitchen,
guess Who always shows up in my doorway–
Oh God, you shouldn’t have!
