THE BREAD MAN
Leo would
travel anywhere for good bread
He'd call
ahead for four-pound loaves
of Russian
rye from Pechter's in Harrison
or drive to
Calandra's in Newark
for
pannellas, sesame seeded bastones
and golden
semolinas
He'd travel
to Balthazar's in Englewood
or The
Baker's Wife in Tappan, New York
for
multi-grains, great marbled masterpieces
or crusty
artisan ciabattas
His old Chevy
would retain the yeasty aroma for days
He'd share
the good bread
with
relatives, friends, neighbors, and co-workers
People called
him, "The Bread Man"
That was the
good bread
Leo also
shared the Best Bread
He
administered the Best Bread
with
well-baked crustiness gleaned
from working
twenty-five years
as a
probation officer
and the soft
interior texture
born of a
kneaded spirit
There were
those
who tore into
it impatiently
and devoured
the entire loaf
without
condiment, while still warm
Others
thoughtfully partook
the
nourishment for body and soul
He always
left them
with
something fresh to chew
and a few
seeds for ongoing growth
He always
left them
with the
lingering fragrance
of the
presence of the Lord
Taste and
see…
Take and
eat…
Maude Carolan
What a beautiful poem, Maude! Your imagery is masterful & touching. May we all be Bread Men & Women!
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