This past Christmas season I had the intention of doing quite a bit of baking–most of it to share. However, it turned out to be one of those things I didn’t get to and I have some naval oranges in my fridge that are looking at me in rebuke. Yeah, those oranges, man, they hold a grudge! 😉 Anyway, I just went looking for the recipe. It was in a Norwegian cookbook that I borrowed from the library in one of their promotions. It’s gone. The library never owned it. And, frankly, it wasn’t good enough for me to recommend they own it. There was the matter of the nutty orange cake though. But you know what? The interwebz is filled with nutty orange cake recipes and I’m going to make one of those instead.

That’s quite a lead in for my first poem of the new year, isn’t it? Thank you to Sarah and all the folks at dVerse.

Cake

I whirled, whirled, twirled
a dervish would be jealous
but no iced sugar cookies baked
no tres leches stewed in a myriad 
of milks and rum
no spicy, walnutty pumpkin pie cooled.
Holidays came and went
as they do as an adult
magic ebbing 
from unmatched memories.
Ingredients for the orange walnut cake
remain, whispering: “bake me now
on this cool gray day. Fill the house
with happy new scents.”

And I have no response except:

Why not?