Rhythmic kneading, up, down, in, out, punching a soft center
Fingers lightly grazing the inside of the bowl
Pliable, stretchable
Strange alchemy
Left alone
To rise
Or not
Breath,
Bread,
Tears,
Each stronger than the sum of softest parts
Primal impulses
Nourished by love, even in absence, and the solace of small acts
7 comments:
A true perspective and comparison I had never considered.
Thank you.
That is quite lovely : you have captured the rhythm of bread-making perfectly.
From the first line I thought this was going to be about your cats -- you know how cats knead when they purr? But yes, a good poem with good images. :)
Tears--yes that was always the result i had whenever I tried to bake bread--but as a subject of poetry, you make the yeaty smell of it rise e.
Oh my yes.
Beautiful. Particularly love "the solace of small acts."
I hope you're OK you've gone a wee bit too quiet for my liking.
Lovely piece. My bread is misbehaving lately.
XO
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