Bread Years

“Life is short. Eat bread.”
her message, delivered
at her funeral, duly noted.

Well before that, I learned
to knead with love,  nurture life
in the great big bowl,

converse with the elements:
yeast, salt, water, flour,
which spoke back in whispers

“ahhh, thank you, this touch
this touch, as we live and breathe,
our whole being rising!”

How I loved what I shaped
with dusted hands
gave thanks as well 

for sacrifices made
by every living organism
that feeds me without complaint

the gathering of  grandmother
ghosts in the kitchen,
bellies soft and full