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Daily Bread; A not-villanelle Villanelle

05/02/2014
tags:

bredpeel

She goes to make her daily bread

With a wooden spoon in hand,

Her tresses braided on her head

The seeds for the grain were sown in a band,

The water came from a gushing spring

Near bloodroot growing in a ring,

Her tresses braided on her head

She goes to knead her daily bread.

The dough set up to rise, she waits

In the creek and unbraids her plaits,

The water sings as she splashes her feet,

It rises high, her skirts to meet,

She dances on the grass to dry

And sings while a robin hops nearby.

She goes to sleep in the shade of trees,

A cat curls up on her bended knees,

She wakes to falling drops of rain,

To the whistle of a passing train,

She shapes the dough on a floured tray

Watching the sun sink for the day,

She goes to bake her daily bread

Her tresses curling around her head.

breads

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. farseems permalink
    05/07/2014 9:19 pm

    Beautiful. Love the way she bakes her daily bread.

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