A Loaf of Now

Coming to the senses, ears first, as usual.  

The water falls in the fountain, the dog snores, the fan hums.  

What of aroma?  What of taste?  

What of ... bread?

No bread now.  Bread later? 

Then being now?  

No fretting. Let it come.  

Memory will not serve.  Breads made, long gone.   

That know-how, it must be here.  

Allow it.  Knead it.

The teacher appears.  Ingredients gather.  Implements line up.  

Too much, too much!  

There are rules about this kind of thing you know. 

 Amounts and measures.  Specific materials.  

Timing is everything -- 

what?  

That's not of the now. 

Time for everything.

A little of this, a little of that.  

Steps upon steps, adding up, each one complete.  

Where is it now?  

It is here.  

Can it be anywhere else?

And so it grows.  

Does it?  Does it look right?  

It is what it is.

Relax.  An assist, that's all.  Let it become.

Does it smell right? 

How will it taste? 

It does what it does.  

And it is done.

Just the thing, this -- 

A piece of now, captured,

to inhale, to taste.

And then ... toast.