I bake bread
I like the smell
it only stays fresh a day, or two
I wrap it in a tea towel
I got from Aldi
lovely green stripes
and sit it on an oval cutting board
on the bench
I like the medieval feel
of wrapping it
a round loaf battered by heat
it’s the homeliness, too
I cut it thick, and I like to dip it
in stew
the crumbs are a mess
and I fear for ants
I’m planting peas
pod peas, snow peas, sugar snap,
Frank’s peas
I could have been a frontiersman
I have a sense of discardment
winter is in my bones
my muscles ache along with
my heart



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