First Cuppa in Morn, Steaming

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first cuppa

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The air slowly fills
with curly pungent wafts of steam
billowing up from a 
hot freshly brewed cup of coffee.
Raising the baton to 
conduct the dawn chorus 
of bird songs and plans 
mulled to begin.

I love to see and feel
the ringlet tufts of steam
getting up my nose, blurring and 
opening up my eyes,
like a curtain raise,
to conduct the symphony to begin.

The trills and tweets,
chirps and cheeps,
whistles and trills,
caws and chortles,
are all entwined and garnered  
in the first sips, of the first cuppa,
taken at wake of day.

The steam and songs 
unspool a cotton thread of
memories and reflections, 
hopes and fears,
to be weft, warped,
shuffled and shuttled,
through the loom 
to weave the coming day.

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