My grandmother baked bread
on Saturdays, her kitchen uncluttered
by those plastic bags prettied with
red/blue/yellow dots
bubbled like foaming yeast.
She used to say
you could believe in her butter,
and her bread was free of wonder.
***A while ago, at dVerse we were supposed to write about advertisements, sort of, and this is what I came up with–late, of course!
Susan Daniels Poetry 
What fun! Love it.
Smiling big–thank you!
🙂
Had fun with this.
I could die for bread and butter now!!
c’mon over–I just baked some yesterday!
Thanks a whole bunch. Now I’m craving homemade bread. 🙂