making bread

quiet house, both dog and cat are sleeping
nothing to hear but the chatty birds outside
I resist my urge to turn on human made music
the last year has been difficult and I long for this quiet
a day of simple chores await me

I stretch to reach two mixing bowls from a high cabinet
the first, that belonged to Mary Agnes, is an old ceramic character
I want to hug it to me as if it was my grandmother standing with me
the other is metal, cold, dull - purchased by me, Mary Katherine,
for my first sweet college home after I left the dorm

in the boring bowl I mix wet ingredients - olive oil and soy milk
the dry ingredients go into the blue, chipped one
whole wheat flour, a little white flour, pinch of salt
and rosemary, lots and lots and lost of rosemary
it is for remembrance, after all - how appropriate

the silver bowl stuff is mixed - quick and easy
next my wooden spoon goes into the dry stuff
and I am flooded with a perfect, serene calm
I want to stir all day, nothing else today, just stirring
is this that "being present in the moment" that the Buddhists talk about?