By Tony DeLorger © 2011
The smell of freshly baked cookies,
wafts from the kitchen,
and there’s nuts, lots of nuts.
I like nuts.
The kitchen comes alive when there’s baking,
that aroma imbues every implement and surface.
I feel like I’m in the country,
overlooking green fields dotted with patchwork cows.
Metal utensils clatter, hanging from suspended hooks,
a gentle zephyr streaming through an open window,
dried flowers rustling, pots clanking.
All for the smell of cookies,
they sit on a wire rack by the open window,
their warming superlative aroma,
filling the house with contentment,
with a sweet and calming aura.
That rich sweet crispy wafer of goodness,
a key to memories of childhood and comfort,
mother’s aprons and long dextrous fingers,
mixing bowls, trays and spatulas.
That first warm bite, a piece of heaven,
peanuts, choc chips and ginger snaps,
washed down with creamy milk in straight glasses.
I like cookies.
More by this Author
A poem about who we are and the human condition.
A poem about aspirations and the self-imposed limits we place on our lives.
A dark humoured poem about growing up and making bad choices, becoming angry and getting into trouble.