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.
Pastor's Ponderings 