However coffee came to be part of the morning ritual over here,

it has arrived and has reached an exalted state in the daily routine.

Every time it is prepared is like it never happened before.

I’ve changed, the world has changed, and in the routine of making the coffee, there is renewal, a first time all over again.

As I put cold water from the spigot into the kettle and then set it to boil,

I drop the dark roasted beans from the little red can into a grinder - then let it whirl.

(I’m of the Lyle Lovett school - I like cream in my coffee)

When the whirling is done,

I can hear the kettle bringing the cold water to boil,

The kkkkkkkkkkk sound keeps me with it.

When the kettle clicks - I let it rest for a few seconds -

like the Great Lakes who rest in winter -

allowing time to settle, to stop being so agitated,

crawled on.