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The plastic bag promises “12 Grain Bread,”
and I laugh. If one grain is good, should twelve
be better? Are there twelve good grains?
And I remember, it’s Shavuot,
the Feast of Weeks, a festival
I don’t completely understand, the end
of the seven times seven days’ count of the omer—
something to do with grain. Wheat, I assume,
the staff of life. I’m shopping for my son’s little family,
whole grain for my grandson.
.
I look at the label to count the grains:
Whole wheat flour (one), malted barley flour (two),
rye, oats, (four), corn grits, sunflower seeds
(not a grain, say six, provisionally),
brown rice (seven), triticale (eight),
barley, buckwheat (a grass, but let it pass—
ten), flaxseed (don’t know), millet (twelve), soy grits.
A baker’s dozen? Most of them listed
after molasses.
.
Before he could speak my grandson learned
two signs, Finished, More,
like the first wordless words
at the breast, turning the head
or latching on.
.
More grains, more good,
more goods, the large life.
.
The festival of Shavouth celebrates first fruits,
seven kinds, and the early harvest of barley, not wheat.
I’ve looked it up now. The rabbis say
the forty-nine days of counting the omer
restrain the excitement of receiving the Torah
at Sinai. Forty years in the desert
endured by twelve tribes.
.
My grandson has speech now.
I sing for him,
Do you know the muffin man,
his favorite song,
hardly finish before he says, More!
(c) 2022 Arlene Weiner
Arlene Weiner is a poet and playwright who lives in Pittsburgh. Her books include City Bird (Ragged Sky 2016).
What a charming & engaging poem! I always learn something from reading Arlene’s poems. Thank you, Arlene!
jb
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Me too, Joan!
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Why settle for a muffin when you can have the whole loaf? Lovely, thanks Arlene!
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Thanks, Emily!
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