The Plane of Yeast
‘Twas a world of aroma
Born from a single-cellular form of life
Yeast.
The scent of fresh baked bread perfumed the air
Rising in warm thermals
On which golden eagles soared contentedly,
Geysers of meade burst from the stones
Fountaining into the air
Dark amber tones catching the sunlight,
Curtains of mist billowed from the geysers
Weaving low across the landscape
Droplets of the essence of honeyed fruit,
Hotsprings of wine bubbled invitingly
Steeped with spices
That seeped out from the rocks,
Round loves of sourdough
Popped up from the earth like mushrooms
Venting enticing steam,
Croissants hung from the branches of trees
Catching the light on their buttery crusts
Like the most delicious of flaking crescent moons,
Bagels rolled across the landscape
Chased by roly-poly badgers
Across a ground of springy bread crust,
Warm gently steaming lakes
Gave off the savory tang
Of proteinacious miso,
Sweet rolls tumbled off the cliffs
Piling up at their base
Cast off doughy rubble,
Golden clouds drifting overhead
Precipitated out cool drops
Of delicious spiced cider,
And throughout it all
In the bread dough underground and the untapped aquifers of fermenting fruit juice
Were the tenaciously bubbling and dividing yeast.
No comments:
Post a Comment