Baking

Baking

To feel the clean water,
while sensing the flour,
mixed whit the smell of yeast,
making a feast in my nostrils.

Setting the wood at fire,
it is a emotional moment,
to feel the heat from the Owen,
sitting and watching you.

The hand is swirling the pot,
it is not unlike massage,
the fingers is squeezing the grain,
turning a few ingredients to dough.

A special fragrance from the dough,
while it is rising in the pan,
a happy rich senseless moment,
when the first smell of bread comes.

It is pure poetry,
to sit a wait for the harvest,
the bacon is roasted,
all is ready for the first bite..