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Sunday, June 14, 2009
A Poem About Baking
Each night he stands before the kitchen island, begins again from scratch: chocolate, cinnamon, nutmeg, he beats, he folds; keeps faith in what happens when you combine known quantities, bake twelve minutes at a certain heat. The other rabbis, the scholars, teenagers idling by the beach, they receive his offerings, in the early hours, share his grief.
Read the full poem here. (A Poem for Will, Baking, by Susan Rich)