On June 24, 2025
Was I the only fool in Kentucky to bake bread today? To sweat by my oven taking in yeast’s primal scent? But there was also this: I befriended the sweltering butterflies seeking a bit of breeze or even making their own, the sun’s hot light reflected on their church-window wings. And the turkey tails basking on a log become beach towel doing their job of chomping through wood to produce frilly fruit, turning a profit on what seemed rotten. And there will always be lichens (we wouldn’t be here without them, they say), sunning like the rock stars they are in the realm of teamwork, part algae, part bacteria, top-dressed with fungus.
And if we don’t learn
we’ll be a manna-promise
shriveled in our skins
7 thoughts on "On June 24, 2025"
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Believe it or not, Nancy, I also baked bread today (for a gathering tonight). Little will they know how much it cost me 😏
Yeast really is amazing, ain’t it?
Yes – and today there’s a loaf of sourdough on my baking schedule!!
You two are brave! We put it off for a bit and made tortillas!
Nancy, friend to butterflies and rock stars! Enjoyed the poem.
I enjoyed this–it puts the “bun” in haibun! I love “their church-window wings.” too! Shew!
Effectively done, Nancy. This is the way a prose poem should unfold, with lovely music. I like: “he sun’s hot light reflected on their church-window wings..”
Hope to see you at the FABW readings in July!
Exquisite:
” befriended the sweltering butterflies seeking a bit of breeze or even making their own, the sun’s hot light reflected on their church-window wings.”
Sustenance of all kinds. Love the details.