Still working on the food themed poems, here is round two of Morning Coffee. Less threatening and more social this time I think. No pictures today, just re-ordered words, seeing how they fit in the new space.
Morning Coffee. My morning coffee is unsettled with the obtuse imagery of sleep. As I move a trail of dreams drifts to mingle with steam from the espresso pot on the stove. It is the morning cool, it is that time when everyone is sleeping and the house is coffee, toast and decadence. It is leftover Sunday papers on a Tuesday morning when the sun is just teasing. When the doors are open and joined to the window by a breeze fresh with grass and last nights rain. It's not waiting for the start, it's just a moment until the scent of the morning kitchen draws another drowsy searcher and the creaking of the stairs brings the day alive with family.