a kindness of bakers

Tonight's poem is by me:

a kindness of bakers

the cinnamon rolls come out fluffy,
almost too big,
Marie hustles in the kitchen,
sweat-drenched, cake-topped,
heaving trays for the bread;
Zylasya is a pixie at 4 AM,
singing “oh oh oh”, sleep
falling from her eyes;
George draws intricate
designs on petit-fours,
his stubby fingers holding
the tube delicately.

at 9 AM, we open,
places everyone,
snickerdoodles
calling the day in.

if not by faith,
then by flour;
if not for hope,
then for yeast;
if not with love,
then with sugar.