The Breakfast
The blackberry
With a dusting of cinnamon
Drenched in maple syrup
From a tree deep in a New Brunswick Forest
The woodsy maple taste of it
Grounding
The burst of tight *bubbles* coiled around the crunchy center
I like to think I can taste the sunlight
The penetrating cold that pushed out the thick, bitter sap
From the dense darkness of her trunk
From the barren winter months
She gives us this gift
And we take it
I have nothing to say about the waffle.
Angela Yeh is an East Coast Canadian native who grew up a stone’s throw from Stephen King’s Maine and graduated with a BA in Psychology and Literature at Mount Allison University. Her first published novel, A Phoenix Rises, was a finalist in the Dante Rossetti Book Awards for Young Adult Fiction in 2021. She lives among the tall pines of Texas now with her two human children, three cranky fur babies and one magical willow tree that calls herself Maddie.
The blackberry
With a dusting of cinnamon
Drenched in maple syrup
From a tree deep in a New Brunswick Forest
The woodsy maple taste of it
Grounding
The burst of tight *bubbles* coiled around the crunchy center
I like to think I can taste the sunlight
The penetrating cold that pushed out the thick, bitter sap
From the dense darkness of her trunk
From the barren winter months
She gives us this gift
And we take it
I have nothing to say about the waffle.
Angela Yeh is an East Coast Canadian native who grew up a stone’s throw from Stephen King’s Maine and graduated with a BA in Psychology and Literature at Mount Allison University. Her first published novel, A Phoenix Rises, was a finalist in the Dante Rossetti Book Awards for Young Adult Fiction in 2021. She lives among the tall pines of Texas now with her two human children, three cranky fur babies and one magical willow tree that calls herself Maddie.
