As the full moon was overtaken by the rising sun,
A man`s serious ambition was mistaken for fun.
The baker arrived early to work this morn,
To ensure his products were properly born.
The chilly dawn air was crisp and fresh,
Falling all around like grain within thresh.
The golden rays blared among the bluish haze;
Like a trumpet solo, which a blues player plays.
The baker smiled wide at the beautiful scene,
Everywhere he looked his grin cast a gleam.
He took in this moment, then into the bakery, he quickly set
off;
As door hinges yawned, and a floorboard squeaked out a cough.
Once inside, he placed his tired apron around his waist;
And checked all of his friends, with bustling haste.
The ovens were alert, as he pushed their buttons (with power);
The sink and the faucet, first took a refreshing (and quick)
shower.
Sheet pans rattled, as they sprung forth from their sleeping
racks;
Mixing bowls mumbled, awake - though resting on their round
backs.
Rolling pins rumbled, and fumbled, as they rolled out of
their rest;
Measuring spoons stopped snuggling together, in their little
nest.
Then, of course, there was the Batter of the lazy flour;
Which always Kneaded to be awoken, at this early hour.
Now that all were fully risen, and totally alert -
The group began to prepare, both bread and desert.
The air was filled, with the aromatic sweat of their
undertaking;
The luscious fumes released, from their intense, delicious
baking.
As the group finished hours later, the first sleepy
customers arrived;
But, before the baker opened the shop (to serve products
made with pride)
The grinning baker thanked his friends, for the help which
they had supplied.
Composed By: A. D.
