INCONSEQUENTIALITIES

This morning muffins

arrive unbidden in

the mind from wherever

they were lurking. 

Steaming with oven

heat, they tumble, fully

baked from the baking

dish, a whole half dozen

of them, crusty, brown

and aromatic. At which,

Coyote’s nose begins

to twitch, his taste buds

salivate. But one moment

passes, and they are

gone, the muffins, their

place unceremoniously

usurped by the next

uninvited mind-guest

that arrives full blown

from wherever it was

lurking.  Thus it is

always, Coyote learns,

not for the first time:

such lovely visions

come to mind, and go

inconsequentially;

and not one of us is

privileged to eat them.