Saturday, December 10, 2011

Weak coffee

Sometimes love is not calling attention to weak coffee, but drinking it anyway.

Weak coffee this morning.
I made it pale,
Without limp intention.
I did not employ the careful plans
Of so many scoops
To a cup,
So many cups
To a pot.
In the morning
I do not count.
Truth be told,
Counting has rarely got me
My non-measure eyeball method
Usually works.
This morning
The coffee is weak.
My breakfast companion who counts
Scoops and cups and pots,
My breakfast friend, with care,
Does not note
The pale demeanor
Of the coffee.

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