A Sonnet for Eating

I hope all of you know the sonnet form, but if not, here it is: 14 lines of iambic pentameter (five iambic (unstressed, stressed) feet, with a regular rhyme scheme (all sorts of patterns exist with this one, so I won't spell it out). Here goes:

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.