Walking into a coffee shop
Are they even open at this hour?
It's early
I awoke early to the sounds of my own dreams
But still slept soundly, half of my tea and open Hemingway on the bedside pedestal
Awake now, and proportionately functional
I walk to the coffee shop
Through a freezing Colorado December morning wind, that sweeps through these Boulder foothills
And a dark blackness
In my senses and sight line
Limited light pollution
I don't see the open sign, is it on?
Where is it?
A full moon through the fog
Causes a pause
Through wind-stretched clouds
The surface craters can be made out with the naked eye
The overtly bright beacon
Causes a moment of infinitesimal disproportionate yet absolutely true disparity of size
of universe and self
Thank God, they just turned the sign on!