NaPoWriMo Day Eleven: Yeast

I love yeast

I love the warmth of fresh baked bread

The buttery silk of a sharp cut slice,

Just cool enough not to crumble

Under the knife

I love the bubbling demijohn

Or brew bin

Singing in the night

A watery siren

That paradoxically pulls you closer

Once silent.

I love the jar on my kitchen side

Full of power


Preening itself as I feed it daily;

Home-cultured yeast,

From practically nothing

The oldest magic.

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