Reflections on Baking

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Charlotte Mannheimer/Public Domain

Who knew the pecans 
float to the top of
the pie? Who knew —
When a knife comes
clean it is done?

While I record
that the sun 
is making a sun
dog of the scrubbed
tea kettle, another
heat rises from 
glowing coils to
make it whistle

As plans radiant in 
my burnished
mind cells, listing
my menu of fat,
sweet, heat,
salt, fiber, roasted
roots, fermentation 
in a glass, where
it may be served
next to despair
and longing on a
smoothly worn
table, each already 
consuming the oxygen 
in the room, devouring
a contented future
before my eyes

Until the windwags her shadow
across the stovetop,
teases the now whistling 
tea kettle, and bounces
unashamed endurance
into my eyes, unboughed
patience into my sinews
caught roasting in introspection, she
smiles at my naivety 
and whispers,
“Get on with it…”

Who knew the pecans 
float to the top of
the pie? Who knew —
When a knife comes
clean it is done?

Virginia Schultz lives in the Ponderosa/Doug Fir forest above the Boulder Valley spinning ideas, associative thinking, writing poems, watching birds and connecting.  Reciprocity. When she comes down to town… she runs, plans and makes more connections.