How do you drink your coffee?
Black and bold,
midnight in a mug,
fragrant curls rising
like campfire stories
from souls who have weathered storms
and learned resilience tastes better than regret.
Or do you favor
dessert disguised as coffee,
cream and sweetness dancing together,
a confection of comfort
where every sip whispers,
“Stay a little longer.”
Perhaps you live somewhere between,
where bitterness and sweetness
share the same table,
like old friends exchanging stories,
discovering neither was complete
without the other.
Hot or cold,
rushed or savored,
travel mug companion on the road to labor,
or cradled beneath blankets
while pages turn
and worlds unfold.
Some guzzle the first cup,
chasing consciousness.
Others linger,
courting the aroma
as though patience itself
were an ingredient.
As for me…
I sit on my screened porch,
nature conducting her morning symphony.
Thirty languages of birds
serenade the dawn.
Warblers and wrens,
finches and cardinals,
and yes,
the occasional squawker
reminding me beauty
is not always polished.
This is my sanctuary.
My place to write.
To read
To wander through a plethora
of incredible authors,
entering and exiting worlds
crafted from ink and wonder.
Like music,
every poem awakens a different sense.
Some soothe.
Some ignite.
Some leave fingerprints
upon the spirit.
And much like coffee,
people arrive with their own flavor.
Some dark and robust.
Some sweet as pecan pie.
Some layered and mysterious,
revealing themselves slowly,
sip by sip,
conversation by conversation.
I count myself fortunate
to share this table with you,
to trade words,
stories,
laughter,
and moments of recognition.
The finest part?
The pot remains full,
“morning” never ends
and I am just beginning
this journey with you