Biscuits

I am 45
Standing
In a forest
Field making
Biscuits having
Dug a hole burned
Down a fire to the embers
Laid my iron frying pan down
With five biscuits on the bacon
Grease putting the iron lid on trying
Not to eat the bacon until the five
Biscuits are ready as my sons
Boil water for tea with honey
And prepare to put butter
And jam on their biscuit
Along with two pieces
Of bacon very early
On a wilderness
Morning in the
Gila mountain
Range in
New
Mexico
The smell
Of Ponderosa
Pine heavy in the
Air along with wood
Fire smoke and as soon
As my wife crawls out of our
Tent the odor of coffee as we learn
Again how delicious bacon and
Biscuits taste in the woods far
From a kitchen or cafe amid
The delicate sounds of our
Morning without TV radios
Gizmos traffic planes or
The constant rattle of
Neighbors in a forest
Silence broken only
By birds and our
Own words soft
In awe of the
Wilderness
Or else the
Biscuits
Bacon
Thanks
To Bisquick.