Some mornings manifest with déjà-vu-esque familiarity. This morning. The clock sighed backwards into a poem that was born early in this meandering middlescence, about six years ago.
Coffee Ring
Morning’s lazy fly
And I consider the
Coffee ring phantom
Of your mug half full.
No grinds to read.
Only lingering scents,
The dregs of youth,
The dross of midlife,
The premonitions
Of antiquity.
What goes around comes around? Not like the coronavirus though! This poem was included in Midlife Crisis Postponed and I still feel its reality, its relevance, its curiosity. Time for a new audio recording. Listen to the poem below.
There’s something about those early morning hours when I’m mostly alone with my thoughts, with the world — and until about seven months ago — with my dog. Yes, Griffin, our Labrador retriever was for many years’ mornings my familiar and comforting companion. I’ve missed him most during the sunrising, day starting hours. And yet I’ve grown quite content in my solitude. Slow. Contemplative. Listening. Watching the world come to life.
And yet that will begin to change now.
A new puppy is joining us. She will be named Carley, and I suspect that lazy flies are more likely to attract her attention than mine for a while. New distractions. New joys. Renewed laughter. I am looking forward to the chaos that will refill our home with love and levity after two long months of coronavirus quarantine. Stay tuned…