Oh Lady Fate the Pastry Chef!
Bake us a pie if you can –
I’ve an appetite for Destiny
And I’ve brought my ravenous friends.
Your lovely pasties have a knack:
To make five tastes from one –
But whether or not they are divine
We cannot decide upon.
My friend Optimist puts her focus
On the crispy ruffles of crust;
Whether the middle is cooked or not –
She’s been satisfied enough.
On she goes and eats the rest
Expecting last bites like the first
And, if they’re not, she’ll think they are
Since it all could be much worse.
My rival Pessimist hates the pie
As soon as the oven is open;
Yet every moan he makes for cake
Is delivered with a grin.
Picking glumly at the slice,
Wishing it was more
Despite the gripes a thicker piece
Triples from before.
My sister Realist cares not for pies
But will give it a go anyway
Because she said she would at first
And our drive took five and fifty.
With all our eyes glued on her
She’ll shovel bite after bite
Never telling it’s hard to chew
(Complaining hurts her pride).
My brother Pragmatist gobbles it all
For the nutritional value in store –
If asked whether he thinks its good
He’ll have to eat lots more.
Then we’ll wait to see his waist –
If it has grown in size
He’ll swear off pastries altogether,
Leaving us to exercise.
And I, Christian, am simply blessed
To share with friends your pie;
When the filling fits the foiled mold –
When it’s moist or dry –
When it bursts with flavors rich
Or when my gut still yearns –
I’m grateful for what’s promised: pies.
Then laud the best returns.
Morning's Early Dark 