Gingerbread

You can see me
Any time you need me
Warm beyond all reason
Night is on the wing
And you could linger
Like a grind of ginger
Making love a season
Heating up the skin

You can water
Me with tears of hunger
Like the wheat in winter
Pressed into a bed
Like a handprint
Flour upon a black dress
White against the darkness
Leavened into bread

We are not our gravest deeds
You are not your grieving
For the bravest flower seeds
As the birds are leaving
As the thin glow of summer's death
Will turn the leaves to red
May the wind blow like a lover's breath
Still warm as gingerbread

Dreams are kneaded
Into walls and windows
Sheltering our sorrows
Dusted and adorned
With the sweetness
Of some kind tomorrow's
Sugar's incompleteness
Pressed it into form

We are not our gravest deeds
You are not your grieving
For the bravest flower seeds
As the birds are leaving
As the thin glow of summer's death
Will turn the leaves to red
May the wind blow like a lover's breath
Still warm as gingerbread

While the black sky
Spreads its myth of thunder
That we labour under
Reckoned by the dead
These are crude thanks
Charity and food banks
For our harvest's splendour
Pepper for our bread

We are not our gravest deeds
You are not your grieving
For the bravest flower seeds
As the birds are leaving
As the thin glow of summer's death
Will turn the leaves to red
May the wind blow like a lover's breath
Still warm as gingerbread

We are not our gravest deeds
You are not your grieving
For the bravest flower seeds
As the birds are leaving
As the thin glow of summer's death
Will turn the leaves to red
May the wind blow like a lover's breath
Still warm as gingerbread