My favorite addiction.

I wake Dress quickly Switch on the machine It’s lights wink into existence Punch a few keys And turn around towards the door Climb down the stairs And swing round to the wood shed Place a log upon another And swing Breathing the morning splendor Returning Arms full of splinted kindling I climb back up the stairs Carrying my life giving load to my salvation Sparks fly as paper catches And fire is born The gentle glow Begins to warm Hands frozen from chopping wood In frigid air Slowly thawing I take off Woolen gloves Lay them upon wooden bench Mahogany Hand hewn with hours Of meticulous care Place kettle old and black in the flames Get coffee ready And wait Until the water boils Pour in the powder Breathing deeply the rich fragrant aroma Salivating glands alive and tingling And take the kettle out of the flames Place a filter over the mug Pour in the black liquid Careful not to waste a drop Two heaped teaspoons of sugar follow soon after A dash of milk to finish The alchemist's brew A quick look around Accessing the feeling That comes from morning ritual Satisfied that all is as it should be I sit down at the desk Relaxing at last And peer into the screen To find familiar friends My favorite addictionnot really a poem...more a story of futures and pasts..:) Written April 16th, 2002 © on Apr 16 2002 12:18 AM PST   0 • 10