Hot, flaky bread

slathered in butter

moves something deep inside:

a body worn even in our easy days.

 

Hot, flaky bread

drowning in apple butter

baked by women who once picked

the wheat knowing no different way.

 

Hot, flaky bread

filling the wanting air

calling us to rise up,

eat, enjoy the miracle that it is:

 

homemade biscuits: hot and flaky

fresh from the oven

sustaining all that is

good and right in this cold world.

 

Hour Three