Here’s a poem of mine that I liken to the folk song genre of poetry. Posted here by request.

How Marriage Is Like Baking Bread

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First we must consider soil,
how much it loves to stay together,
picturing plants called hard red winter
or hard red spring—
the steady circle of their growth—
but this isn’t about the harvest,
though we must gather some to grind.

To scoop, with both hands, the flour,
the yeast, salt and sugar.
To know that what feeds us must also be
fed by us.

With water, separate parts become
one body, and given time,
might grow, the field
warming atop the stove.

And this is the point, isn’t it?
the coming together of the disconnected,
hands doing what hands
are meant to do,
and the dough—
perhaps recognizing its own
purpose and impermanence—
rises.

(first appeared in Blue Earth Review)