Wait until the sun is summer high,
On an orange day after someone has said,
Let’s go to the beach!”
Then, whir the mixer
And scrape the bowl.
Alternate wet and dry.
Breathe cocoa dust and fire up the oven.
Grease every pan you own —
Every one, because you will need them.
When warm chocolate air is pouring
Out your open kitchen window;
When every horizontal surface is hidden
Under cooling pans;
It is time to make the filling,
To pile it with mathematical precision
In a ratio of one to three:
And everybody smiles.
“We need one now,” they say,
And I know
As surely as I know that there are
A finite number of summer beach days
That these smiles are the sweetest thing of all.
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