Cake by Night

A simple slice of cake to be shared with my wife and two girls.  An after dinner treat.  It was served to us at a small German restaurant in a very small town in Southern Indiana.

I have fallen for this picture.  It sounds stupid, and more then likely is, but I am fascinated with the forks, the way they chose to plate it and especially and most importantly that they brought it out with the clear intent that the  slice of cake was to be shared.  It is as we asked, we wanted to share and instead of bringing it to one person then slapping down four forks onto the middle of the table as if it was to be dolled out by the king or queen who ordered it,  it was simply and elegantly brought to the table for all.

Cake by Night

Having slept the first half of the night,
now I lye in bed, wide awake, wondering why I don’t dream.
The moon is bright.
Fluttering moths bang against the window
casting shadows onto the wall.
I close my eyes hoping to fall asleep,
then think, perhaps the hummingbird cake
out there on the kitchen counter
is in need of a delicate pink plate.
A pedestal, befitting, of love at first sight.

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