To Land O’ Lakes® Country Morning® Blend (Sticks)
Compos’d of milk and liquid soybean oil,
Eleven total grams of fat hast thou
Per single serving; in thy sheath of foil
Thou liest in a half-cup stick no cow
Did ever from its udder’s teats extrude,
Encourag’d by some dairy wench’s hand;
But rather in a fact’ry wert thou press’d,
So thou might lend thy savour to that food
Which else would be exceptionally bland;
Or moisten brittle cates as dry as sand,
That no breakfasting diners be distress’d.
Who hath not seen thee offer’d at the store?
Sometimes whoever shops in one may find
Thee near the butter--butter which of yore
Did grace our palates in the selfsame kind,
Till we were taught to fear cholesterol,
And turned to thee in hopes that thou wouldst yield
A fit repast: in texture butter’s twin,
With taste as sweet, for nourishment as whole;
Whether thou com’st in cubes or plastic tin,
In all respects to butter art thou kin,
Save that of butter’s vices thou art heal’d.
What of thy savage maid, with braided hair?
Chastely she kneels, like Pocahontas clad,
Displaying thee before her bosom fair,
Her countenance aglow, as she were glad:
And glad she may be, for in holding thee
She holds a smaller image of herself,
An image that in turn holds thee again,
And so on into vast infinity:
Repeated thus, although her frail form wane,
It never may from life be wholly ta’en;
In that regress forever lives this elf.