POETRY/PHOTOGRAPHY

A Cookie’s Crumbling Coexistence

A Poem

Sometimes, I search in crooked Circles.

No one told me my “Fortunes” would ever come to pass in a cookie confection of egg whites, extracts, sugar and butter.

Water and Flour, of course, were never, ever, optional.

The recipe tells me, though, that there’s more to it than that.

I’d love to say these cookies know more than I do — they’re just short of crumbling before revealing facts —

But that’s not always true.

And I haven’t always succeeded — invariably, nor without exception, on life’s wheel of perpetual motion.

My weekly carryout — just feeds my thoughts, and gives me Dreams of something sweet.

I’d probably have more success shaping these golden, crispy, ancient Butterflies (which came here from Kyoto, not China) than carefully crafting any future endeavor.

Except — I’m just not much of an artist.