I am romanticizing the air, savoring

sunlight like food, recreating rituals of worship

out of crossing the street. The pictures I take

are my confession: last year we were all

finding new things to believe in—

one converts to catholicism and another to trees— but I

found god in oat-milk hazelnut cappuccinos

and the streetlamps

I talk to on my way home. Art

doesn’t just sit there, it has to be

made, like bread,

remade, put your hands in it and

knead. I read my grocery list

like a Bible, these dishes I will make

for you: I will

chop the onion, peel the eggs, mix the batter,

I want you to believe this dish came down

from heaven. Good morning.

I am making a masterpiece. I hold life

like a face between my hands, making breakfast

is like making a covenant, God is in this toast.

Rowan Tate is a Romanian creative and curator of beauty. She reads nonfiction nature books, the backs of shampoo bottles, and sometimes minds.