Poem: Some Days the Coffee Tastes Better

Some Days the Coffee Tastes Better

Some days, the coffee tastes better than others.
and you wonder if it is, really, or if it is you.
Is the light better here than the place you left?
Is the water from your well better than city water?
Is you soul better, or not, or is it all a trick

of the demons, a devil’s dance inside your head,
practicing someone else’s voodoo,
feeling their ancient pns some days
and some days, not.

Today, when the coffee is good.
When the silence is companionable,
today is a good day.
No matter that there is no one to share it with,
it is good and you will savor it and give thanks

for the taste of the coffee, with its perfect blend
of warmth and bitterness, is a gift, and you have many,
more so than most, even if too many of those gifts live
in other people’s hearts.

That is enough. To know you live there
with the angels, with the hidden God,
so great he changes the world,
so tender, he fixes your coffee.

About this morning.

It is a really good cup of coffee here at my second-choice diner. Good enough to spawn a poem.


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