From the shores of France do we see.
There once was a man of Canada
Who of food is a connaiseur.
Most especially the breaking of breakfast.
From the time of sweet cradle he craved
Croissant, crepes, coffee cake
And he is a cookateer worthy of talk.
Hid Flapjacks of tact outclassed any
Greasy spoon buccaneer.
To the victual Pantheon
Striving like any decent Greek,
he vies to place a mark.
To distill portents of life, conjuring
Gastronomic mystique to
Exult the enduring
Keen of vernacular,
Willing loyalty to home Vancouver,
He set out Saturday to lighthouse point.
Soon he is caught in traffic and jammed on a bridge.
Sipping caffeine brew.
Upon return to kitchen and laboratory,
An idea leaps like Athena
From the crown of Zeus.
He sets to his craft, the forge of Hephaestus burning bright.
Strawberries, blueberries, huckle, and grape.
He filled a great pot,
leaving nothing to furies or fate.
Adding all things needed
For a sweet berry jam,
He lets them to stew an hour or two,
Quite a few.
That’s how long it takes to get anywhere
In Vancouver in a traffic jam.
Tasted on toast, traffic jam hints
Sweat and boredom,
And a little chip of