Altoon Sultan

Altoon Sultan

I watch the yeast
rise in the blue bowl
It grows before my eyes
in the sweet warm water
Clouds unfurling in a August sky
with omens of thunder-showers
The scent is aroused skin
unperfumed brushed
by a cool soft wind
from the Sound

In a small bowl
white below the tan line
apricots & lemon-rind steep
in Wild Turkey as if on holiday
honeyed by a blossom-drunk bee
Good God The colors of Collioure!
Soft light in a Mediterranean sun
over wide fields of ripe wheat
O mein Kind Atme tief!
Mein Kind Atme tief!

When the dough’s
turned out on the board
it’s uncertain as to my intent
It’s my kneading that it’s needing
That it in fact longs for as if breath
And so I take it into my firm hands
this too soft & too pliant stuff
Add a little flour Work it
Work it Oh Work it
until it’s quite stiff

Bread`baking is an art you know
the proof of which is in the loaf


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to Bread`Baking

  1. you had me at Wild Turkey


  2. The next loaf will be baked in a BRAND new light, Peter….Wow!!!!!!!!


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