The soft word—
meal
feathered
down from the
lips of this
penitent
stranger attending us
makes me feel—
not satisfied, but
focused—
gently tuned
to make a more
sonorous chord
with the
few philosophical
orbs of murmuring
light beyond our table
by the nourishing
signals I'm gently
lapping-
up off
of such
a clean
noun.