I think that Michele will like the poem below, from Linda Pastan too

Petit-Dejeuner

I sing a song
of the croissant
and of the wily French
who trick themselves daily
back to the world
for its sweet ceremony.
Ah to be reeled
up into morning
on that crisp,
buttery
hook.

Linda Pastan

“We don’t remember the dream,
but the dream remembers us.
It is there all day
as an animal is there
under the table…”