Bread

When the dark clouds gather outside
This isn’t a day for errand-making;
I’d much prefer to stay here inside
In my cosy kitchen, busy bread-baking.

When the dough is in the oven,
Filling the home with its heavenly scent,
It raises, stretching strands of gluten,
You know all that kneading was time well spent.

When my instincts say its ready,
Opening the door takes my breath away;
For here before me, in golden glory:
A fully bloomed loaf to brighten my day.

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