“What are you doing here?”
I said to clearly warm cookies
Arranged neatly on the kitchen island.
“There are no cookies in the house.”
“We are Lazarus come back from the dead”
The cookies replied in a chocolate smooth melody,
Their breath scented with vanilla overtones.
I inhaled their aroma deeply.
“You are not Lazarus. He would not
Tempt me to devour him whole.”
“Where did you come from?”
I said to the baker’s dozen
Glowing golden in the fading light.
“We are Gandalf come back to you now at the turn of the tide.”
The cookies replied, their chocolate chip eyes
Winking a little too come hither at me.
I eyed the hundreds of dark, deep-set eyes.
“You are not Gandalf. He would not let me
Pass and commit him to the fire of my belly.”
I heard the cookies sigh. They said
“We just are and you just are.
Let us just be together in the
Harmony of your belly.”