Theme Thursday: Bread

raking stray sticks
through remnants of warmth shared
in the shadows of night,
orange embers emerge
beneath blankets of grey ash,
which rise in plumes
thickening the cool morning air.

tired fingers work
flour and water into pasty orbs,
small worlds pressed flat
now tucked neatly onto
beds of white hot ash
transforming it fragrantly
into our scant repast.

plunking charcoal chunks
from nooks they create
in the bottom of our biscuit,
we eat, dreaming of sticky
golden honey dripping
down our chins, fooling
our tongues into submission.

sometimes this is what it takes
to swallow our daily bread.

yet we are thankful.

For more takes on the theme of bread, go here.