Baking Day
Rounded mound, rising, reaching,
Breathe the scent of sweetness yeasting.
Warm wet softness lifted, dripping,
Spreading through white fingers gripping.
Forming, folding hands dive deep,
Spreading life throughout the wheat.
Slick, sticky shining swells,
Pounded, prodded ooze compels,
“Come play with me”, I hear it say.
“Celebrate this baking day.
Cut me, twist me, give me nuts!
Butter me and roll me up.”
Quivering, shimmering, infused with gifts,
Perfectly in the pan it fits.
A final act, it grows once more,
Then accepts the oven door.
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