Pumpkin Bread
by Michael Escoubas

I was ten years old,
when I burst through Grandma’s
kitchen doors out-of-breath
from kicking crisp autumn leaves,
enjoying the crunch, crunch,
they made beneath my feet.
It was then that something magical
happened to my nostrils–
from the oven wafted the spicy
aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg,
ginger, and cloves … all conspiring
to mesmerize my youthful taste buds.
Then Grandma lay before me
a warm slice, slathered with cream cheese
accompanied by a glass of cool milk …
… Ah! How that taste still slides leisurely down.



 

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