Just a poem this week...

with apologies for being late!

It’s been a stellar week for me, with some very wonderful and welcome professional news! More soon…. But, in the meantime, here’s a fresh-baked poem!

Spirits Are Attracted by the Smell of Yeast

Just before bed, I stir the yeast to life
in the big blue earthenware bowl
I have used these many years
to make bread.

Even before the mixture begins to bubble,
I sense Nana’s spirit nearby,
murmuring praise for my kitchen skills,
as she always did, so generously, when alive.

And while the dough rises, overnight,
covered with a cloth like the head of a pious Jew in prayer,
the smell of living yeast fills the air—
and the spirit of my oldest best friend’s husband
visits me in a dream, reaches out a hand—
and I can see that he is whole and healthy again
in his life between lives: vital, happy and healed.

Likewise, the dough feels alive when I shape it,
the next afternoon, into two round loaves,
cupping each one in my hands.
Smoothing the seams downward, where they won’t show.
Shaping each loaf as tenderly as I held
my newborn son, thirty-one years ago.

Copyright ©️ 2024 by Barbara Quick