Filtered sunlight
across the picnic table.
The wind a gentle tune
for the sun pattern's dance.
The eucalyptus perfume
mixes with the pine.
The fresh, bright grass
joins the slow spring sway.
Family dogs plowing wild flowers
to clean winter from their snouts.
Muddy children run
to laughing parents.
The taste of bread
with wine and cheese
added sense treats.
The bread is all but eaten.
I started with but half a loaf.
In a town famous for bread,
I had half a loaf.
I sit here in the warmth
of my picnic,
too satisfied
to go for another loaf.
And yet I hunger for more bread.
Obviously half a loaf was my error.
But a picnic
in this lovely spot makes me
remember that
I can not live by bread alone.