And just like that
a lonely (omelet) lunch turned upwards
feeding on the Fellowship with and unsuspecting stranger
seated at the same table
we worshiped with our words
speaking of the Sun, (93,000,000 miles)
the Light of the World (closer than these very words)
it changed the afternoon.
"The lady who rushed across the bakery"
Her cheeks flushed, eyes focused
the light hue of her scarf
scooting quickly across the gap of building,
tables and chairs a corn-maze to the door.
Glancing up, I smiled at the fact
that her trio of bundled baguettes
slowly crafted, twisted, and coaxed
into becoming our daily bread,
somehow added a quiet comfort that no hasty travel could take her from.