Your work is finished.
You can rest now.
Sip your coffee.
Savor it for a change.
Feel the breeze that comes through the window.
The day will be deep south hot,
but for now, it is cool.
You can smell the lilacs behind the house
Rain is coming. The remains
of a tropical storm.
Two inches in an hour, they say.
And wind.
But for now, the air is peaceful.
You take a small slice of cheese.
They make it just down the road.
It is tangy and sharp, a bit dry,
it crumbles on your tongue,
perfection.
There is more of that, perfection
than we allow.
Not in us. Never that.
In the moments.
In the gifts we too often pass by
in a hurry to get….
well, to be honest, I am not sure
where it is we are trying to get to
when where we want to be is here
with the lilac wind,
a perfect cup of coffee,
and time.
About this poem.
I am sitting at my favorite diner. I just finished writing my sermon for tomorrow, Normally I would run home, but today I am just savoring the moment, the food, the coffee.
That’s all the poem is about. No hidden or second meanings. Just the moment.
Be well,
Tom
