Cookies for The Singing Sighs

Today I am baking cookies.

My friend’s family just had their EIGHTH kid. Yes. EIGHT. They had to move out of their old house because ten people just can’t all fit together in only four rooms. So they have a new home.

And it’s HUGE.

I haven’t seen past their kitchen, but id it’s anything like it, it’s pretty spectacular. We’ve made dinner for them, a fruit salad, and now the cookies.

I love making cookies from scratch. I make up the recipe as I go. I just recall old recipes I used, and mash them all together. The cookies end up tasting delicious. I’m not baking from scratch today. No time, I guess. Just using the old tub stuff.

One time, there was an industrial sized tub of cookie dough in our basement fridge. In the course of a week, I had eaten the entire thing. I left the empty tub in there though, much to my mother’s dismay. Needless to say, we stopped buying the factory stuff and I baked my cookies from scratch.

It’s quite cloudy. For some reason it reminds me of a celestial landscape. There are no hills by here, though, so I haven’t a clue why.

The sky looks like a sigh,
It breathes,
And wisps,
It waters up,
Like a tearing eye,
Yet,
It doesn’t cry,
It only allows the rest of the landscape,
To feel its sorrow.