Daylight Savings Time: Fall Back
Please enjoy this poem from my friend Leah, which she generously dedicated to me on her blog:
fraught with all the wild extremes
of tango and of tribal rush
to borrow from such frantic dreams
as of death’s violence robbing blush
nursing hands and healing touch
she poured her soul into their lives
giving grace when they could not
and thirty years went coursing by
after a while, her daily pace
had taken an unforgiving turn
as the dancing from bed and face
brought grief and a crushing yearning
for something soft, without demand
as restoration for the years
of dying children, and blood-stained
gauze, and wives’ and mothers’ tears
her deliverance didn’t come from
an expected source, as such,
just a need for solitude, some
might criticize the redeeming batch
of bread when first she built with brick
her own oven, and began to mix
recipes to steal the senses, quick
aromas to fill the dimly lit kitchen
at first each loaf became a story
as the luscious, tender flavors
melted away people’s horrors
bringing nearly divine pleasure
then, increasingly, as her own heart
was being healed by hours
left alone with grains and starch
and spices rich with yesteryear
she found a patron here, then there
and bit by bit she came to see
as local farmers supplied their wares
she’d started her own bakery
a new pace set from rush to waltz
forsaking wealth for just enough
she left behind her three decades
for the joy of a fire-crackled crust
~L. Page