wikipedia creative commons buns image


-By Orv Avleshere –

My mother made buns that were the world’s best;
We chose those homemade buns and left the rest.
Sometimes she’s up and about with the dawn;
Then she’d bake buns until the dough was gone.
The measurements were only in her mind;
Not one written recipe could we find.
The texture was measured with just a glance;
But, did she make a mistake? Not a chance!

We came to help her and dad celebrate;
That Anniversary of their wedding date.
Mom was baking buns, that was the ‘last straw’
While I sidled past my sister-in-law.
“Mother, please let us ‘wait’ on you today.”
It was then, that I heard the relatives say;
“Everyone…look who’s hands are in the dough!”
Orv had full audience…as you might know.

My mom said, “Put margarine on your hands;
It’s the lubricant that this chore demands.”
A mini ‘dab’ made the buns with many bumps;
Stuck to my fingers with multiple clumps.
It was ‘Murphy’s Law’ that had struck again!
My mind raced for an explanation, then.
“Sticky buns have ‘character’”, I exclaimed.
They snickered up their sleeve, just the same.

I put those baking pans back on the shelf;
Verdict, I had made a fool of myself.
Soon, I was escorted out of the kitchen;
Plus told, I’m not a kitchen magician!
I had the last laugh as I’d detected;
Bungled buns were (by all) the most inspected.
So, by using less oil than I would (K)nead;
My ‘bumpy’ buns had character, they agreed.

Poetic musicality, for posterity
(c)11-2018 Orv Alveshere
published online-Valley Equestrian News