Ritual
Grounds
Before
the sun crests the morning hill,
Before
the bird’s song is full and shrill,
Before
the day breaks, I feel the thrill…
Coffee.
The
comfy warmth of skin and fur,
The
house still quiet but I feel the lure.
Children
and pets still fast asleep,
But
my groggy brain is stuck on repeat.
Coffee.
The
cold water runs, the beans are ground,
The
pot is dripping, still no one’s around.
Slippers
and cups, sugar and cream,
I
shuffle around, still in a dream.
Coffee.
I
pour two cups and set them aside,
I
shake his shoulders so he won’t be denied.
He
smiles at me and ruffles my hair,
Our
morning ritual begins in our lair.
Coffee.
by: Kat de Falla
