The poem catches a small, ordinary moment: a mother talks on the phone while her pen wanders across a page. Around her list of birds from that morning's walk, it draws flowers, filigree, and tangled "Gordian knots." The speaker, who seems to be a child, watches closely and with real wonder, since the pen appears to move "of its own" accord. The title suggests the speaker is remembering her at thirty-six.
The cookies add a quieter note. The speaker gets only "three," an "allotted" number, so the home seems orderly and caring, with limits. The fork prints on each cookie are called "uncomplicated," which sets them against the knotty, elaborate doodles. A mother's inner life looks intricate and a little mysterious; a child's world is simple and sweet.
The mood is warm, still, and tender. Nothing happens, yet the speaker notices everything, as if this ordinary afternoon was worth keeping.