Mike, it's somehow strangely liberating to remember warmer, stickier days, don't you think?
Cinnamon Bread
I think of you
while I make this bread.
The ingredients in the bowl,
the thoughts in my mind,
blending in perfect amounts
with fond movements...
The dough, adhering to my hands,
being part of me, is like feeling you,
without wanting to be free,
concentrating my thoughts
on this romantic work
that now lies dormant,
in a ritual of waiting.
The raising, then the baking,
bring scents of cinnamon spreading,
trespassing the last crumb,
filling the house for days,
but comes to me
like your presence that I feel
following my paths,
keeping me company,
inviting me to breathe you deeply.
Rosa Clement
Lest you forget! :)
ze gyp |
