I bought my family some homemade bread,
At our eagerly awaited annual Christmas Bazaar,
Last week. There was this new
Bread lady, just within the venue’s doors.

Delightful bread! Bread of a substance
I could not bake, had never baked,
Will never bake. My husband, on the other hand,
Loves to bake bread, from scratch, or frozen.

I bought my family $20.00 worth
Of homemade bread. A wheat bread loaded
With raisins, a rye, a plain wheat, for my oldest daughter,
And many cornbreads with jalapeños,

For us to keep, and send to relatives, for Christmas.
This bread lady’s stories were so enthralling,
We spent 20 minutes there, my friend and I,
Bread is quintessential to earthly life, and so is its birth.

She had ‘baby loaves’, too, and, as I clutched
A small white bread with raisins, in my hand,
She told me a story of her grandmother,
And her grandmother’s diminutive baking pan.

I love cinnamon raisin bread, toasted,
With butter. This little loaf had been the extra
From other loaves, baked with thoughts of love,
Of life. I had a ‘grandmother’ loaf…

I bought this bread, but none of my family
Would cut these loaves of love, apparently,
They would make smaller slices than store-bought…
Oh, Man, is this where bread has led?

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/3/06