cinnamon

Joanna Wiggin

warm cinnamon
swirling in a pot of
applesauce
her body is soft
and warm
I wrap my arms around
her as she stirs the
brown cinnamon
into the bubbling
sauce,
the wooden spoon
turns in her hands
as the brown swirls
meld into the folds
as I meld into her folds
the room fills with
spices of fire
warm, comforting
spices of fire

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Joanna Wiggin
Joanna remembers the swirling colors and smells of her mother's and grandmother's cooking. Their warm, comforting presence. These are her memories of cozy. Now she is grown, and the one stirring the brown cinnamon. Now she is the one, writing the stories, holding onto the memories of warm kitchens, filled with love.