Loafing About

pumpernickle bread

 I stretch and sculpt and feel it quicken in my hands

The puff of earthy yeast, from mottled  to gilded patina

Not done yet, requires the proper guidance

Tucked in to rest, to grow, to develop those nutty flavors, the texture of silk

Shaped to make me smile, maybe a braid, maybe a cob

Proud harvest, not too soon, just long enough

The crust must crackle, the center melt on the tongue

Lightly glistening with your choice; maybe sweet butter, maybe marmalade

One step from nirvana, like coming home

There’s nothin’ better than homemade bread

bread slice

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2 thoughts on “Loafing About

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