Thee for my recitative! Thee in the oven – hot, baking right now, at last, the kitchen smells of sweetness, Thee in thy resting place, this temperature and timing to create perfection, Thy round and crusted body, golden brown and metallic wrap, Thy wonderous filling, carefully placed inside the form, hand sculptured, resting at thy sides, Thy evened-out, now swelling dough on top, now readying to be eaten, The spotlight of the oven fix’d on you, Thy long, pale, browning stretched-out dough parts, touched with yellowish egg-parts, The ripe and tasteful fruit out-bursting through the top-holes, Thy circled frame, the springs in form, with cinnamon, sugar in thy heart. Thy makers by thy side, continuing, happily finishing, Through haste or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily perfecting; Proof of a friendship – emblem of baking and eating – pulse of the love we feel, Like once come serve the Muse of pastry fresh, even as here I see thee, With cream and silvery forks to eat from China plates, By day with coffee, neatly served to guide thy taste, By night thy daring display as dessert. Great-looking beauty! Roll on my plate with all thy tasteful apples, Thy crumbling crust to eat, Thy mad’ning-spreading fragrance, scattering, Tempting like no other, luring all, Law of thyself complete thine own shape firmly forming, (Oh sweetness in the air, and joyful flute and bright piano thine,) The trills and shrieks of those who taste thy parts, Launch’d o’er the kitchen sink, across the streets, To tell the town of taste so grand and pure. By W. Whippedcream To Hans Bais With love, Esmeralda Summer-Winter 2015