Crumbs - Lucille Hamilton

I want to think about crumbs.

They become a presence in your older life,

landing - who knows how -

under the nosepiece of your bifocals,

hiding from your awareness

until some more important smudge

calls attention to the need for cleaning.

You don't see people in their forties

ferreting out the hidden residue

of some toasted, tv-watching sandwich.

Suddenly crumbs are ever-present,

and, with age, ever multiplying.

And, not just in spectacles anymore,

but in the multitude of right angles

you, up till now, didn't realize

involve almost every aspect of your life.

Let's think about crumbs in a new way.

Weren't they once part of something bigger?

Aren't they the "remembrance" of madeleines past -

among a whole variety of other possibilities?.

A history of crumbs has yet to be written, 

to my knowledge.

For certain, there will be a paper written one day

to meet some Ph.D requirement.

Maybe then, the purpose for crumbs will be found,

other than to make beds uncomfortable, 

to feed some creature much smaller than human.

Or,

and this is pure insanity,

to leave a trail out of the forest one's lost in.

I mean! 

What is the life expectancy of a crumb?

I will stop now about crumbs, 

hoping that you will give them some consideration, 

hoping that the crumbs I've offered 

are ones of satisfaction. 

and"I will stop now,"

having heard the good advice I've written.

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