Baking with Mother
Rolling pastry, hands sticky
from butter fingered into flour,
search shelves for glasses the
perfect size for lids and bottoms,
scraping circles from marble.
Cool hands make good pies,
mine are warm, unlike my mothers.
Spoon spicy mincemeat,
glistening jewelled fruit
flecked with crumbed suet,
spoon more whilst knowing it
will spill from crimped edges,
sweet singed raisins, bubbling,
blackening battered patty tins.
Mince pies sit cooling as family
gather, fairy lights twinkling,
smiles reflected in glass baubles
twirling on Christmas pine.
I think of her, rolling pastry
as I sat watching in fairy wings,
pink tutu slipping on formica.
Jacqueline Knight has lived in Spain for 28 years. She is a writer, mother of 4, committed activist for environmental protection, gender equality and voting rights and Deputy Mayor of her small village.
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