Eating the chocolate croissant

Hay harvesting, on the path to Marianelli Beach, Vendicari, Sicily, Italy
Eating the chocolate croissant 

I take the first bite
And I am standing in a grove of cacao trees that are feeding on the heat and humidity, their branches festooned with deep green leaves, their fruit dangling like pendants, their seed pods pregnant with possibility

Another bite 
And I am riding on a tractor with a farmer in his denim pants and shady hat, a slight sadness in his shoulders as we cut the browned and burned cane, the tired planting almost spent, sacrificing itself one last time 

The next bite
And I am dancing through wheat fields, swaying to prairie song, the grains dry for their denouement, glistening in the orange glow of the rising sun 

Another taste melts in my mouth
And I am resting in the nest of a chicken as she lays her egg, pushing and straining to give birth to what feeds her very being, my very being

I savor the last bite
And I am carried from the bakery where it all comes together – the chocolate, the sugar, the flour and the eggs – and then tucked into the truck travelling to the merchant whose shelves will hold me until I’m ready to feed

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