is fitting for
the odd moments
sandwiched between
the days of shadow
and the days
of marginalia
weird bread
tastes brown
and stays chewy
the geese
calling in the rain
want some too
upstairs
the quiet woman
rumbles a table
into position
opposite the window
to watch the trees
as she kneads
there will be
no weird bread today
we can tell
by the sound
of the clouds breaking
but there might
if the aspen start to sing
be weird bread
tomorrow
