Here’s one from / for Poetry Pantry #497 at Poets United, originally published (online) at Red Wolf Journal in March 2015.
Whistler’s Annunciation
Mister Whistler looms
down the gloomy street,
hoping to meet the morning
but limps himself back home
before dawn.
…………………….When the sun
comes scrambling up at last
over the staring and eggy town,
sleepy in its early kitchens,
all the yellow curtains
in all the yellow windows
burst into Sunday flames
and fall, burning the countertops
and leaving their feeble yellow ash
on Mister Whistler’s sad and
unswept morning floor
Scrambled, Not Fried 
I somehow feel sorry for Mister Whistler! A great read
I like the idea of the sun scrambling up at last – a wonderful play on words – as well as drawing my mind to the title of your blog in a mischievous way. I like the way yellow runs through the poem. And I wonder why Mr. Whistler was out SO late as to return home when the sun was rising. Smiles.
This is brilliant read aloud….Mr. Whistler whistles “sssss” all the way through!
And who, I wonder, will finally sweep up the debris from the floor?
I feel that Mr Whistler will eventually catch up with Eleanor Rigby who picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
I love the curtains and windows bursting into flames with the rising sun. Having trouble leaving a comment today.
I am drawn to the break lines in this poem. It feels like an egg that has been cracked. The first portion is quite dark with Mister Whistler, looming down a gloomy street, to the second which is filled with light and sunny yellow. Morning has broken.
Why am I thinking of scrambled eggs!? Love this!
Excellent use of line breaks in this one, Ron!
What a lovely, playful ode to a whole community‘s Sunday morning!
Fun! Who will sweep the floor? Hope the person reading this aloud doethn’t have a lithp.
Some bright images brought to mind in your poem Ron. A wonderful write!
This is really special … a wonderfully rendered piece of writing and a pleasure to read.
Love this, especially
‘the staring and eggy town,
sleepy in its early kitchens’.
An eggy town! I like that.