Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Glancing up from her work, rolling the makeshift dough back and forth amongst the flour, streaks of it already over the counter, her clothing, and the floor, the youth aimed to address his questions – but they came almost too quickly. Glad he was figuring out efficiency, she merely smiled and persisted, until there were other notions brought to the surface. “If you would like, though its nothing to worry about.” She didn’t mind – preferring they were utilized in some fashion anyway, and she could always get more.
She kneaded the dough some more, flipping it over, and then began applying vanilla and cinnamon into it. “You can always wash and cut up your peaches while you wait, or clean up periodically.” Considering the mess they’d already created, her elbow jutting out towards an assemblage of cleaning supplies nearby, including rags, mops, brooms, dustpans, and the like. It left the cleric some options anyway.
She kneaded the dough some more, flipping it over, and then began applying vanilla and cinnamon into it. “You can always wash and cut up your peaches while you wait, or clean up periodically.” Considering the mess they’d already created, her elbow jutting out towards an assemblage of cleaning supplies nearby, including rags, mops, brooms, dustpans, and the like. It left the cleric some options anyway.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
