My Own Wisdom

There is something here
trying to be birthed
I feel it
I'm trying to make
sense of it
push it out

Where's the lesson
for him
for me

My nesting continues
all of this effort
is trying to find
a home

Perhaps I was
a farm wife
in
another life
happy at the hearth
warm
hands in dough
flour hiding
beneath my burnished
smooth and precious
metal circle

necessary needed vital appreciated

I'm learning
knowing the impossibility
of rushing yeast
or pushing the river

In it's time
the perfection
will be drawn from the oven

to be shared
enjoyed
leaving only crumbs
and a tasty memory
warming the soul

This is what
I want with you
from you
to create with you

And all I can do
is ponder the improbability