rolled in this meringue:
apples, mascarpone cream,
burnt honey. ’20.
baked in this Roulade:
my student’s home-raised hen eggs
ready to be whipped
folded in this bake:
some precious moments of peace
so hard sought, well earned
masked in this meringue:
a year of bittersweet loss
melted into joy
White Elephant win
with every Bingo chiste
bringing laughter, joy
Dad building raised beds
in the middle of winter
in hope of spring growth
a few bitter words
can mean everything; nothing
with untimely voice
a solstice sunrise
followed by a Christmas star
800 years lit
the lights connect us
we live under the same skies
we live here. on Earth.
finally, a grin
showing nine weeks of fixed teeth
with a shine of pride
ninety-minute drive
to drop off Christmas goodies
my forever friend
they’re all grown up now
even their cookies have grown
in their perfection
he’s no idea
what he’s got himself into
with these crazy girls
cookies are cookies.
we will cut, bake, decorate.
’cause it’s what we do.
arms, metal, ginger:
what is a holiday scent?
molasses. that’s it.
and soft-spun sugar
ready to perfect Christmas
with gingerbread sweets.
student recipes
for our final days of class
of this COVID year
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