Linguistics of Coffee

I stir my morning
to the chirp of cardinals,
inhale heaven through sips
of November breeze.

How can anyone not love dawn;
music crisp as grass under bare feet
tickled by laughing daffodils,

smiling,
yellow as sun.

It was never really the coffee,
you know, but the moments
whispered between the tulips;
the intimate conversations

~ between cups; ~

~

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2 thoughts on “Linguistics of Coffee

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