A sudden wind jars the small branch of a broken Aspen

It drops into a tiny puddle, and then

Sinks into it like Olive Oil

Soaked bread dotted with the spoils

Of crushed garlic and fine rosemary

Oh! This finest table of bread

Thou bakery, mighty crafter of finest goods

We praise thy produce which binds our world

As this Aspen reaches out and binds these woods

 

anthony forrest 

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