If your eyes are the windows to your soul
than let me look upon a warm loaf.
If poetry is the doorway
than surely there should be a poem
written to the food that warms it.
I heard a poem spoken
about peach cobbler
and how to make it.
I have heard a poem
about the houses lived in.
But there is no poem
about Zucchini bread
so I will write it.
Where to start
we go so far back.
This almost miracle
delicious in my mouth
reminding me of childhood
reminding me of family
and reminding me of love.
We share the time it takes
and we share the bread we make.
Some families have old traditions
spanning generations
going back as far as their own family’s creation.
My family has Zucchini bread,
the wonderfully green mixture before it’s baked,
the sweet smell that tells you it’s ready,
and the thick, warm taste when it’s cooled just enough.
It is always a happy time when this bread is cooking
the smell alone is enough to put a smile on your face
and love deep in your heart.
The smiles that dance on the faces in the kitchen
and the laughter that steams from creating this masterpiece.
Yes, other families have their traditions
and their memories;
we have our own
and I know I would rather taste ours
than yours.
So, here is to the flour on the floor,
the green goop on the counters
and the love in the bellies.
Here is to the freezers filled
the gifts created from joy
and the memories made.
Here is to the Zucchini bread
that I love to make
and love to eat.
I feel like this is a bunch of different poems wrapped into one, but I think it works. Zucchini bread is my favorite food, so it should have more than one poem written. Let’s just say this is multiple poems written to blend together or something like that.
