In batching from time to time, I dared to choose reason,
Departing from customs set in rigid minds,
There must be efficient food preparation abiding by season.
When it came to processing fruits for whatever purpose,
From experience I knew the genes of apples and pears
determine the quality of bakery leaving no surplus,
and proof of taste, so luscious, convinces all peers.
In food preparation, my nonconformist spirit.
spurred me to avoid the pattern of halving and quartering,
I chose instead to slice from the core, whatever the merit,
I passed the test of time and quality that beat loitering.
If the menu for dessert called for lemon pie,
my taste rejected grated peel, toxic with rind.
It might appeal to causal observers, pleasing to the eye.
Taste tests will show lemon zest is never the right kind.
A day or two later, whatever my agenda,
I depart from the slogan," one leg at a time,"
Because I'm not enslaved to custom and defender,
To sit on my bed and insert both feet is fine.
If in choosing to be different makes me a peculiar nut,
My odd examples matter little on a planet gone astray,
Just the same, I don't mandate my practice that avoids a rut.
Truth be known, some noble journalists were odd, but made our day.
In discipline, I never can boast,
that around bakeries and the aromas my appetite is good,
and about food in general, I go for the toast,
I'm about average in markets seeking food.
Often in taking stock of a good reputation betrayed,
That is not my lifestyle, and the measure of behavior,
my confidence is a Righteousness clearly arrayed,
I readily agree with critics I'm not pure, and cherish my Savior.
My rhyme scheme is inconsistent. Perhaps the reviewer can find something refreshing.