Village Bakery


Such sweet-headed people going into the
village bakery. They bump into each other
along the counters in the morning when the
trays of pies, colored cakes, and fluffed-up
pastries arrive from the ovens, like bees
drawn to sugar.

They grab for what is dainty and tasty,
paying any price, as the midnight crew
tending the ovens slips out the back,
leaving behind the results of their
intricate labor.

My vegetable garden has no such favor
and distinction, despite a miraculous growth
from sun and other magnificent, barely
understood forces, bringing forth radishes and
zucchinis of extraordinary shape and color.

My visitors from the mountain country
go to the bakery and leave me home,
where I water, weed and watch
the slow, new growth that has been
happening in the passing evening.

This entry was posted in poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Village Bakery

  1. den169 says:

    Excellent insight!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s