Every spring
my love and I
drive to the mountains
of Eastern Pennsylvania
to see the donut trees
in full bloom.
Legend has it
that no one who has
ever entered a donut hole
has come out.
When my grandfather,
relaxing with a cigar,
blew smoke rings,
the ghost of my grandmother
snatched them out of the air,
dunked them in coffee
and ate them.
Paleontologists digging in Montana
once found a fossilized donut
in the rib cage
of a Tyrannosaurus rex.
My most profound
childhood experience
was seeing Heaven
when I looked through the hole
of a donut shaped cloud. -- Jeff Barnes
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