Food For Thought

Eating what's on hand
thoughtlessly,
we're fat from a life

of what's easiest.
If it's cheap,
it's enough for us.

Is it good for us?
Is it safe?
Do we care enough

to question where it
might be from?
Do we care enough

to question the way
it was made?
To question the way

it may have been raised?
Or slaughtered?
Neatly packaged and

neatly separate
from our lives.
We live happily

and ignorant of
ev'ry way
the most important

aspect of our lives,
what we eat,
comes to our table.






Author's note:  I forget the name for the form this was written in, but it must contain stanzas of three lines, each adhering to a syllabic count of:  Line 1- five, Line 2- three, and Line 3- five. 

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