- Non-Erotic Poetry
- saturday morning
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Saturday morning one eye open
cat pressed against the back of my legs,
out from under the down comforter
pee, blue bathrobe from the hook
up to the kitchen, click the teapot
coffee funnel and filters
grind beans -- cat, who followed me
scurries off at the sound of the grinder
three scoops, followed by boiling water --
the alchemy of morning
beans to aromatic black-flour, cold water to boiling
combine and savor result.
Temperature 19
inch or two of fresh snow
Christmas lights wrapped around the porch railing
breeze from the west
no stars or moonlight.
Find flip-flops, toss the robe on the bench
outside, open the hot tub cover
test the water with my hand then
step over the edge
slide down as almost too-hot water rises up
nearly to my nose --
cat inside looking out the door window
aghast, I assume, at the concept of getting wet by
choice.
Quiet,
no traffic or even distant barking dogs
snow of the previous several days
blankets the ground, clings to the birch trees,
coffee finished quickly, I look into the empty cup
hoping for more.
Count fingers and toes
ten of each
count my blessings
find the number too large --
too many reasons to be thankful,
not just morning coffee and hot water
quiet and solitude --
no one shooting at me
or trying to eliminate my tribe from the planet --
red and blue using only words and ballots
to assault each other.
Bright light appears from the east
grows in size
nearly fills the sky, but no sound --
wing-tip strobes, landing lights
reveal the source
followed by jet-engine sound
staggered by the difference between
speed of light and speed of sound.
Directly over head
few thousand feet above
more like a Klingon Battle Cruiser
than the cargo jet it is
(no passenger window lights showing).
Doppler engine sound
increase in pitch, then overhead
decrease --
cargo jet / Battle Cruiser
banks left, turning south
delivering toys to good girls and boys?
or
photon torpedoes to the infidels below?
Quiet again,
I look into my coffee cup
see only a caffeine reflection
of days past,
and perhaps
days to come.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozover 17 years agoNice, full-bodied, but much preferred your Monday morning vision;
Says so much with so many fewer words.
duddle146over 17 years agoBeautiful words on the passing of days. I loved the line, "see only a caffeine reflection of days past... Well Crafted.
