My Morning (Poem)

The birds are singing – my alarm clock, 

as the sun peaks into my room

bending its way through our sephia blinds

winding up to the bed post

creeping in and under these eye lids…okay

I will rise, embrace this new morning.


stepping over discarded toys on the stairs

blurred vision, grog in my head

weighted by a slumbering dream; 

taking promise of the sunrise, 

and the brewer in hand

thick ebony grounds are scooped up, 

some granules, over flowing, coat my fingers…
i let them linger, allowing its redolent flavors to waft..

ignition of the senses, eyes gather focus 

pouring water deep down into its reservoir…

then I wait.  

Shaking cobwebs from the edges of my mind

percolating coffee, smooth romance to my ears

I think to myself, ‘watch pot never percolates’ 

and fathom countless minutes before my cup is poured

taste buds salivate linger and long for this morning’s first taste

as if all other mornings we have be deprived

and never tasted its succulent grace.

This is my morning.  


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