Mom's Bread

Ruddy, handsome sunlit eyes cropping gold into bundles carted up mountain echoing songs of farmers thrashing. Seeds of strength stoned into flour rounded into loaves balanced on boards carried up the stony hill climb on women’s heads crowned with twisted circled rags. Walls and benches blackened by heat dusted with ashes shaken off the oven bed by a spec of a woman in black forking hay into flames eye timing loaves to perfection. Aroma of singular ecstatic delicacy and chit-chat of women waiting for their tanned loaves as mothers for their toddler at the end of a sunny school day.