Morning Cup Of Coffee
Who would’ve thought that
the rain tapping the window
would harmonize so well
with the rude honesty of my morning alarm
.
My brain negotiates with the day
and I stagger forward,
faithless and naked,
toward the coffee maker,
sliding my small ceramic cup
beneath the steaming spout of joy,
waiting for something warm to arrive.
The grinder growls through its duty,
as the scent of a French roast
slowly threads its way
into my fogged-up thoughts,
I sit and I sip and i smile
until the day, slowly and unbothered,
finally comes into focus.
There is nothing in life
so plain, so unassuming,
that inspires my senses quite like
a morning cup of coffee.
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