The cooing of a dove
pulls me from my vivid dreams
to sorrows for the world,
since the dreams
will not welcome me back
I leave the bed
letting the floor cool
the soles of my feet
while I tiptoe
to the bathroom to pee
sounds of a car, overcast sky
but rain will come later
I turn on the oven
letting it heat
for my sourdough bread;
how can sorrows
of war brought by a dove
be driven away
by baking my bread?
My own sourdough bread
Today Melissa wants us to write a poem of wandering from room to room noticing the surrounding at dVerse. I had to do it from memory today, but this is more or less how it was yesterday morning
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Your sourdough bread looks delicious, Björn, and thank you for sharing your Monday morning. I love that it starts with the cooing of a dove – my poem has the cooing of a pigeon – and that you too have a cool floor!
I like to believe that heating and eating that baked bread helps for a bit. The sorrows of the world are indeed heavy.
Baking is a therapy
A lovely poem, Bjorn. We can do what we can to support our beliefs and live our truth but this runs concurrently with day-to-day life.
“since the dreams
will not welcome me back
I leave the bed”
I think we’ve all felt this at some point. Even further, to go back to the dream of what we imagine once was. I like that you were awakened by a dove. It strikes me that sorrows of war were connected to the dove, since doves have been symbolic of peace. I think you did a fine job with the prompt.
So atmospheric Björn, and that bread looks divine – I need the recipe 😋
That’s a fine looking sourdough bread!
A wonderful visual in your poem, Bjorn. Love the bread also!
Lucky you making your own bread. But nothing can dispel the agony of a genocide being committed
Bread as respite, I love it. Everyone needs a loosening of gravity. Calming poem.
I don’t know it might be due to the mystical goodness of sourdough bread. Plus lots of butter. I really enjoyed your poem. Thank you so much.
And yet it does … funny how those intimate fragments are the teddy bears of latter modern life, just enough inwardness to dispell the outer brutality in the window.
A lovely write, Bjorn ~~ as though I walked alongside you.
That is indeed a fine looking loaf Björn and I am sure it is therapeutic to make such each morning – its rise displacing for a moment, the ills of the world…
Although baking doesn’t necessarily solve problems, it does nourish our souls. I found this poem real and hopeful. I liked your concluding question.
Yum! Baking is my therapy as well.
I like the contrast of ordinary domestic routine, even a bliss, with the woes of the world, a melding of the outer and the inner experiences.