Another Attempt

On bread and baking:
Science meet sincerity
and long moments take flight
A need fulfilled by the kneaded dough
Warm as soft sifting through my fingers
Warm and wafting, the scents of feeling
Let loose from an oven closed
And freed in a few hours time
Four-hundred degrees.


Some days all you can do to hang on is to sink your fingers into a shaggy ball of dough. Knead your stress into a form more resilient than your own. Make something new from simple familiarity.
What begins as flour and water, salt and butter; a jar of activity and microbial colony ends as a sour loaf, baguette, or boule of comfort and flavor.

It's days - nay endless stays - which make us this way
Simple pleasures being all it takes to set the mind straight.

So Sourdough take 2: a starter of Rye and dough of Wheat alone. Rosemary sprinkled in and 3 loaves rolled   from.
How did it rise? Better than expected
What's next?
More trials and hopefully the pleasantly unexpected.

Maybe I'll make a fine sandwich; perhaps an egg poached atop
Hopefully I'll taste its sweetness
Something I've long forgot...

Small steps.