as soon as wheels hit the tarmac
they’re making cookies
at grandma’s blue house on the corner.
in pjs and aprons, flour running across the floor,
chocolate chips, snickerdoodles,
hey, don’t forget the gingerbread cookies,
we need to make so many more.
eggs cracked with one hand,
shells littered across the counter,
fingers greased and at the ready,
more dough hits the tummy
than the metal sheet.
is that a cardinal out the window?
where are the hummingbirds?
no sweetie, they only come summer.
ding, ding, ding the timer sings,
cookies come out and are gobbled up
faster than the next batch hits the hot oven.
making cookies at grandma’s blue house on the corner,
we need to make so many more.
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