The day had been a bit of a TRIAL. That statement, unfortunately, could be said about far too many of her days. As she pulled a KNIFE out of the drawer, she wondered how she was GOING to keep up a façade of normal. Or maybe she could SWING in the opposite direction and stop pretending. Would that be a disaster? She gently touched the top of the cake. Cool enough, she decided. These next months were going to require some thought. Well, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, she thought wryly. And then, she almost laughed out loud. Quoting the gospel of Matthew was probably not a good sign. Or at least an odd sign. As she went through the motions of continuing her baking project (gathering ingredients, pulling out a bowl), a whole series of images in her head were CUING up. The confectioner’s sugar formed little clouds of white dust as she measured it out and began blending it into the butter. But her mind remained elsewhere. She imagined friends with puzzled faces, heads turning as she quoted whole passages from one religious text after another. She would definitely be signaling stress. Shaking her head, she began the delightful process of ICING the cake. A soothing, familiar activity that released all worry and settled her gently and firmly into the present moment.

Georg’ann

Pudgy little hands exert FORCE
squeezing the silver CLAMP.
Walnut breaks open, sharp pieces
scatter across the table.

Long fingered, bony hands press
lemons, rolling them back and forth
against the black countertop
to get them really JUICY.

These hands take turns beating
sugar into softened butter
whipping up ICING. Together
creating a layer cake so sweetly.

Heather