Ravyne’s Nest
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Ravyne’s Nest

Mother, Upon Baking

GiaB prompt # 4— cooking

Photo by Nadya Spetnitskaya on Unsplash

Mother smelled like baked bread and cinnamon
I was rarely allowed in the kitchen during baking
But sometimes I snuck in, sat quietly in a corner
watched her punch down dough after rising
She filled pan after pan of loaf bread
and tucked them away to rise
Then she’d start on the cinnamon rolls
rolling out the dough
brushing on the butter
scattering on raisins and nuts
then sprinkling it with a cinnamon and sugar mix
With expert hands, she rolled up the dough
Never too loose or too tight, molded to perfection
Sliced with a knife, the rolls were then placed in pans
An hour later, the bread and rolls would go into the oven
and the whole house smelled like Mother

© 2020 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.

I made some homemade bread this weekend and was transported back in time to my mother’s baking. This poem is the result in tandem to the GiaB prompt #4 — cooking.

Lori Carlson writes Poetry, Fiction, Articles, Creative Non-Fiction and Personal Essays. Most of her topics are centered around Relationships, Spirituality, Life Lessons, Mental Health, Nature, Loss, Death, and the LGBTQ+ community. Check out her personal Medium blog here.

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Ravyne Hawke

Ravyne Hawke

Writing Coach, Poet, Fiction Writer, Essayist, Artist, Dreamer | “Enlightenment is when a wave realizes it is the Ocean” ~Thich Nhat Hanh