Yes

There seemed more accusation
Than admiration in Vivian's voice
When she said,
"Well, I wish I had time
To bake bread!"

And so sometimes when
The loaves were in the oven
And Vivian was at the door
Louise mumbled something about
Another bake sale again

And never even tried to explain
Her near-religious ritual:

How the flour on her fingers
Was the sun and the rain
And the earth

How the thump of her palms
On the dough
Was the dance of women
On the ancient threshing floor

How the smell of baking
Leavened her
And left her believing that
We rise, we rise

And how the cutting
Of the first warm slice
For the first child home
Made her a bounteous goddess
With life in her hand

- Carol Lynn Pearson