Too much sugar, we were. Hungry yeast, ravenous yeast, ate too quickly.
So much sustenance, it was, we were
consuming too quickly.
Not conserving; not mindful.
We soon became a sour, acidic dough, that could not rise.
Drowning, was I, in the alcohol. The by-product of our over-eager love.
Work in slowly. Balance me with honey and flour and water.
A little salt.
Cool temperatures, a slow rise. The right length of time,
Watch it grow, double. Push it down. Re-build when we fall. Stronger, better structure,
a fashioned interior.
Perfect holes, an airy crumb.
Desire me. Desire us.