Tag Archives: bread

The Bread Maker

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

She had forgotten
how to make the bread,
how it had to feel
just right
before she laid it down
to rest.

She had forgotten
how to walk and talk

the old nurse came
to her at midnight
and pulled her
from her nightmare dream,
doing the work
of a true healer.

She had to relearn
the little things,
the simple things—
like how to make bread:

how to make the bread dough
feel like a baby’s skin
when it is ready
to rest and do its work—

like a baby feels
when you lay it down
to sleep
to do its work
of growing.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry


on Ethel’s birthday

Bring to me water
Taken from the well of the moon.
Bring to me bread
Baked into brown, round loaves.

This is my water and bread:
My woman with hands as white as the moon
And eyes as dark as the brown loaves
Bringing me the food and drink of life.


Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis