Still Life - Staffs of Life

Fare waits upon the table— hard and fluid kind: three glasses filled with golden liquid, shards of ice; another two- the amber-colored flow, defined and clear, no ice, their smooth opacity concise. Supported are four slices—lightly toasted bread that stand on end, grouped, dry without a hint of spread. Oh, such a wondrous setting—bread, the staff of life, the basic need that fed all men since long ago, life-giving manna all across the world, where strife engulfs and threatens those of humankind that know without the staff of life, their days come to an end— without their daily bread, grim death will soon attend. And, there along with bread, the liquid stands beside to quench the thirst, provide as a life-sustaining mate. Without this sacred flow to balance and subside the dryness in the throat from bread—this would negate the need for food—for fluid is our liquid gold, and mixed with bread, the staff of life becomes two-fold. April 14, 2014