The season
It’s the season of flour, yeast and water,
rolled flat and pressed into the pie tin,
filled with apple, pear and cranberry,
or risen three times and baked brown
and crusty in the dutch over.
It’s the season of thick soup
and friends around a fire circle,
the season of songs sung in rounds,
the season of tea and a steamy bath.
It’s the season of patience
and nostalgia and quiet comfort,
the season of knowing we’re better
when we’ve gotten a long deep sleep.
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