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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