Bare feet on cool linoleum palms sticky and supple with dough
folding caressing this kitchen at midnight
no light but moon shimmering over the counter spilling out onto the floor
not full not even half just enough
to guide her hands as she hums to the beat of this work
mixing stirring adding herbs to tingle the tongue
sugar to shape lips into a smile a dash of pasilla to grab your attention
for now there is only the faint scent of flour nothing better
she kneads
pushes down with the heel of her hand molding stretching smoothing
again and again bringing the dough to its form –
this yeast never rises in daylight
these poems come only in dark.
~~
Ursula Shepherd lives in Ashland, Oregon. She spent her professional life as a professor of ecology and biogeography, studying such wondrous places as coral reefs, deserts, and mammal communities across North America. She recently returned to writing poetry. Her poetry has appeared in, among others, Passionfruit, Big Wing Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, Unbroken, Boats against the Current, Grim and Gilded, Ekphrastic Review, and The Orchards.
