Flour, water, and salt are all that is kneaded
Pushed, pulled, shaped, and formed
Carefully crafted, meticulously born
Who knew beauty could be seen in sourdough
Sweat rolling down a crown
Laughter echoing through a court
Living wisdom in a gown
Jewels found in trusted consort
She is something lost in time
A Proverb foretold and found
Charm felt by her gravity’s chime
Yet by His will, she’s joyfully bound
Aroma intoxicating in nostril seeps
Steam filling deepest crack and shadow
Plenty for the company she keeps
All revealed in sourdough
This morning, my wife and I discussed restoring her wedding ring, which has been stored safely in a box for the past few years. If you do not know, allow me to enlighten you on how pregnancy changes women. Not only do their bodies stretch and contort throughout the creation of life, but they rarely ever return to “normal.” Something about the magic they create changes them, body and soul.
Her wedding ring no longer fits through this change, for she has become more beautiful.
Sourdough has filled my home throughout all my kid’s lives at this point. It has become the scent of queenly majesty. Her beauty has broken the glass ceiling. She is no longer doe-eyed, she has developed calluses from dough rolled.