The pan warms,
and time forgets itself.
Grains that once slept in the earth
begin to sing again,
turning golden beneath your gaze.
You are not just cooking —
you are remembering
how creation feeds on attention.
Each crackle,
each crisp edge,
is a hymn made edible.
Eat slowly, beloved.
Let your tongue taste
what love feels like
when it chooses to arrive as food.