The art of baking

More about The art of baking

I asked an AI (Gemini 2.0 Pro Exp) to write a free verse poem, giving it complete freedom to choose the topic. I've been low-carbist for years, and this is what it came up with, lol.
Original structure of the poem:

The Baker's Hands

Before dawn,
when the village sleeps
and even the stray cats are dreaming of cream,
his hands begin.

Not thinking, not planning,
just knowing.
The weight of the flour,
the cool silk of water,
the sleepy, yielding sigh of the yeast.

Years etched into the lines of his palms,
a map of loaves baked,
lives nourished,
a silent history of hunger and satisfaction.

He kneads,
a rhythmic push and pull,
a conversation without words
between muscle and dough.

The oven breathes hot,
a fiery heart in the cool kitchen.
And the scent,
oh, the scent,
a promise of warmth,
of comfort,
of the simple, profound joy
of breaking bread.

He doesn't think of poetry,
or philosophy,
or the grand sweep of time.

He just bakes.
And in that baking,
something ancient,
something holy,
is made new again.
Even.
Every.
Single.
Day.

Gemini is testable here at the time this image was made:
https://aistudio.google.com/app/prompts/new_chat
List of testable models may change.