Notes About The Poem

Coffee

The lip trembles slightly with the first sip in the morning.
Searching for the rim the hand is slightly shaky.
Eyes half-opened and ears seized by silence as the breath 
inhales the vaporized memory of slow rising steam.
The second sip more confident finds the soothing liquid quickly.
The throat opens wide welcoming body sighs of mild comfort.
The third sip in the morning is the best as anyone who drinks it will attest.
The body now awake is fully prepared to take a fitting gulp.
No longer sipping, fairly zipping in the body’s quest for alertness.
The tongue is sharp to mark the measure of the draw. 
The back is straighter as the body stands more tall. 
This is the sip of the day. The first full taste. 
Not done in haste but savored for the fullness of the flavor.
This is the quiet sip. Transporting you to the easy comfort 
of a welcomed day.  The easy sink into the softness 
of a welcomed resting mind. The sip you are reluctant to relinquish.
That fair elongated moment of the magic third sip that stops time.
And then you gulp your way across the line that marks the end
of the cup and the beginning of the day.

truthfree verse

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