The Art of Baking
The house is quiet, all are sleeping still
Content to dream, and wait for morning's light
No one feels hunger, but I'm sure they will
And so I prep the kitchen while it's night.
At first the flour, yeast, and soda mix
And then the eggs, the milk, the oil go in;
The stirring is a chore--it's almost six
The kids are will be up soon, my littler kin.
The pans are oiled, ready for the dough
But it must rise first, so I wait and wait
Until it's perfect, patted, formed just so
And in it goes, to meet its tasty fate.
Within the hour the bread comes out to meet
My family, who all slice it up to eat.
Happy baking/writing, everybody.