It’s so simple
we forget how.

We prepare space,
gather earthly things:

a bowl, a wooden spoon,
flour, salt, hot water.

Mix with the pace
of a patient teacher.

The dough thickens
like blood for love,

binds together,
becomes becoming —

work of your hands
work of your heart —

how bread brings
scampering feet,

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salubrious singsong
voices finding listeners —

nourishing a vision
of family, of friends,

of community
ready to rise,

ready to provide.




Photo by Nadya Spetnitskaya on Unsplash