Connor At A Birthday
Fertile fields are early tilled and fed,
Then sown with proper seeds of grain,
Stalks yellow, heads of grain mature,
It's late summer, harvest's in the fall.
Stone grinding creates the baking flour
Long used as staple for country tables.
A little moisture, a pinch of leavening,
Then intermittent kneading and resting,
Into loaves mounded by tender strong hands,
Oven bound, hard crust a result of misting.
Left awhile in hot stove heat, smell enveloping.
"The Staff Of Life" drawn from far fertile fields.
A family's somewhat like a warm loaf of sweet bread :
Satisfying, if all the components work in unison;
Not so, if the grain turns moldy or too little leavening.
Sweet bread has graced family tables for millenniums.
Every member of a family has their own recipe,
A little more of this, a little less of that, a pinch ... .
Each must be allowed to formulate their own self
From the fields plowed for eons by earthly others.
Those constants remain, we all build on old recipes;
We all harvest from ancient fields, we expect results.
Some breads are difficult to digest, some ignore them.
There may be times, any bread is better than none.
Connor, living is not as simple as bread making, but
Life takes just as much kneading and rising, it takes
Periods of rest for the ingredients to meld together,
It takes proper heat and time for sweet bread's baking.
Connor, you are blessed with youth and a lifetime of
Adventure before you. You too will plow fertile fields,
You'll sow fertile seeds, you'll grind hearty flour and,
Also, you will prepare your table to serve sweet bread.
May you, on this remembrance of your Birthday,
Have all that's necessary for a meaningful life of your
Own choosing. Be the Master of your special ship,
And keeper of your own recipe for sweet breads.
May our differences be swept away with time -
May you make a contribution in life's direction -
May you harvest grain from fertile fields -
May you be our family's baker of choice.
Happy Birthday !
Nanny & Pop Pop