COFFEE MORNINGS
First light of morning streams in on shards
Of sheer magic
The aroma of coffee not yet brewing
Lures the poet in a semi- somnambulant state
To the kettle
The first whistle of the morning is cajoling
Words dance in wordle rhythm
Never settling like the spoonful of coffee
Which instantly dissolves rising in a steam
Of hot magic
When the air filled with perfumed breezes
Whose elixir mixed in by delft invisible hands
Weave a poem of early morning dew then
Ribbons of syllabic patterns tint the blossoms
Afresh again anew
COFFEE MORNINGS © gillena cox 2017
imaginary garden with real toads
Writing Unseen
Revisit
10 August 2016
10 August 2015
