Door County Poetry: Two by Phil Hansotia

Sourdough Sorcery

A mysterious power swirls in those
who mix and knead dough.
Oval lumps rise, the crust thickens
and turns chocolate-brown as it bakes.
A subtle fragrance, like smoke
from a magic lamp, escapes the kitchen,
creeps to other rooms,
until it burgles the house.
A rich, full, honey-chocolate smell
of baking dough plays
on the restless minds of little boys
and grown men, distracting them.
 
This is not the time to check on homework,
or the promised list of chores.
This is the time to clear the way
and put your favorite marmalade within
easy reach of loaf and hungry hands.
 
 
 
The Law of the Wild

Periodically, like leap-years, Mardi Gras parades,
flu epidemics and the hurricane season,
we have our presidential elections.
Birds with heavy plumage, large beaks,
and talons emerge to claim the highest roost.
Lions roar out of the jungle and face
packs of wolves, and sullen grizzlies, at a distance.
At some point they find ways of going
at each other, beaks, teeth, talons, claws
flailing away, until most limp off never to return.
The last two circle each other
for a few more weeks,
while jackals, hogs, and all
the lesser beasts and birds, look on…
And then the final clash.
The victor picks a new pack
and roams the woods until
they come alive with roars and howls,
feathers flying, and the roiling crowd
leaves a new beast at the top of the mountain.