Sheltering In her lust to comfort, she melts chocolate, stirs the swirling velvet in hot butter. These days are long. Why not write a sonnet to brownies; she hears the glossy sputter. Beats two eggs and sugar, pale and frothy, sifts flour, salt and soda like fine sand. Combines all; the batter smooth and sticky. Licks the luscious darkness, upon her hands. Bakes at 350 for half an hour. The fragrance is maddening, but must cool. Patience, in the memory …