On Shakespeare's Path

Bavarian Sonnet

Right before the leaves begin to fall
I sit back in this rocker with my mug.
Ingrain paper covers up the wall
With portraits, plants that point to the old clock.

And butter tops the salty, subtle dough,
The birds would want a crusty piece of crumb.
They look inside, at me, look back and fro
When I would tap the glass jar with my thumb.

It really is the brew they’d like to taste.
Can see the envy in their lusty eyes.
With every sip it is being debased.
Till I run out tomorrow never dies.

Zum Wohl, I say. It sounds like I revile
These creatures, while I never lose my smile.