Improbable Cookies
Returning home, you walk inside,
Awaken the olfactory.
There, resting on the countertop
Are cookies baked for all to see.
Your mind leaps to the obvious:
The signs all tell a story clear.
No baker did assemble these;
‘Twas happenstance that put them here.
Although no other evidence
Is satisfying in the whole,
The flour spilled from the canister;
An earthquake dumped it in the bowl.
Although we were at first confused,
We understand the eggs as well:
They teleported from the fridge,
Just yolks and whites, without the shell.
The gravitation of the moon
Combined with a solar eclipse
May have opened up a bag,
Contributed the chocolate chips.
An aftershock of magnitude
Somewhere between a five and six
Quite possibly could agitate,
Produce a firm dough from the mix.
The fluctuations in the lines
Of magnetism from the poles
Could open up the oven doors
And set the proper heat controls.
Although this last may seem a stretch,
Our statistician ascertained
A bird could grab some dough like eggs,
Drop on the pans, and then again.
The only step that would be left:
A thunderstorm with static spark
To heat those cookies up just right,
Awaiting your return at dark.
I know the chance of this is small,
But we’ll not dwell, no, mum’s the word.
What other option is there now?
This talk of bakers is absurd…
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment