BREAD CRUMBS

A pittance for the scavenger.

Scattered at the edge of the water to feed

Minnows that swarm in shallow depths;

Spread along the dirt path for birds to find;

Swept from the table or counter with a

Curved hand and flicked wrist.

Caught up in a twisted roll of the dice,

Scarcity asserts itself in bold deprivation;

Hunter-gatherers search for open landscapes

And the end of hunger in a noon or midnight

Crawl, flight, or stumble towards food

With desperate haste to break through the numbers’

Lock-jaw claim on the set of those who are starving,

Who scrounge for what can be found along the way,

Who battle against the odds,

Who covet tokens gleaned from stone.

While others bear arms;
stock guns and bombs;
take hoards;

destroy plows, herds, fields, and homes.

No more than a set of villains
who worship a dead-end set

and leave wanderers in stunned silence with

Bread crumbs in their pockets.

©cmheuer