No Small Thing
The smell of baking bread, smooth floured hands,
butter waiting to be spread with blackberry jam,
and I realise, this is no small thing.
These days spent confined,
I am drawn to life’s ordinary details,
the largeness of all we can do
alongside what we cannot.
The list of allowances far outweighs my complaints,
I am fortunate to have flour and yeast, a source of heat,
not to mention soft butter, the tartness of blackberries
harvested on a cold back road.
A kitchen, a home, two working
hands to stir and knead,
s clear enough head to gather it all.
Even the big toothy knife feels miraculous
as it grabs hold and cracks the crust.