Before Breakfast

Slugs meet their ends
as the morning stretches its wings.
The flowers survive
at the expense of said bug.

It's just you and I
with the salt and morning breeze.
Killing and loving.
Breaking and bonding.

Everyone is asleep,
but we make mini-pancakes
on the presumption
that they will wake.

Everyday is a new day:
A new slew of slugs will die,
another flower will multiply.

And all that really matters
is you and I.
Just the two of us
and the morning haze,
the shaker of salt,
and our mini-pancakes.