I'm having serious issues with internet here in the place I'm staying in Lancaster. It works when it feels like it. It's pissing me off, really. Anyway, I managed one poem today and it's off the PA prompt to write an ode. I've already written one to bacon, so here's the obvious other choice.
Ode to coffee
There is an entire shelf in my pantry
dedicated to various forms of it:
instant, espresso, cappuccino, grounds.
Sometimes I don't even brew it, I just
lift an unopened bag from its section
and gently squeeze so the aroma just
slightly pushes out the little air hole.
I don't even care if my stomach protests
everything I throw into it, I will still
grab a mug and decide whether I want to
brew a full pot, a cup at a time or just
some carefully measured instant to get me
through my fix for the moment.
My collection of various flavored creamers
stand neatly arranged in the door of my
refrigerator, waiting to mingle with the
freshly made, hot brew.
The little signs and decorations on my
kitchen and dining room walls profess my
undying love for it, the one thing that
never lets me down on any day of the week.