Saturday, December 5, 2009

brazeli




a Swiss tradition
each Christmas
generations passed down
house fragrant
symbols on each cookie
a proud people

sugar, cinnamon, eggs, butter
toasty thin wafers
crumbs scatter

sweetie
his mother Lois
her mother Stella
her mother grandma Mani
her mother grandma Karlan
as far as anyone can remember

now our children
traditions

swiss iron
emerges each year
we gather
tell stories
listen to the songs

a sweet cycle
perpetuating
love


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3 comments:

S. Etole said...

This reminds me of the Swedish Krumkake made on an iron passed down in my family.

Deb said...

I love this poem. I'm so glad I've had a chance to be there for this tradition. It is definitely a sweet memory for me. Love you!!

deb said...

I tried to comment yesterday, but the computer was misbehaving all day.
My mother -in-law has a similar press to make pizelle , a family favourite. When my kids were small they looked forward to going there for overnight babysitting trips as she would always make them together . I am certain that it will get passed down to her oldest daughter, but we are very close so the sizzle and delicate smell and taste of her love will stay near.