By Bruce E. Stoker © 2008
I know by sight those tasked to brew the beans,
Baristas young and pert who blend and grind
And pull strong shots from sleek, gleaming machines;
I put my trust in them to clear my mind.
Their pleasant banter pierces morning haze;
Caffeine induced, I’m sure, but I don’t care.
Undaunted by my sullen, grumpy daze,
They serve my cup of joe without despair.
It shames me now to think that this first draught
Is what I need to greet the day with joy,
That change is all I have to praise their craft,
That their spirit is what I should employ.
I sit. This simple mug, it should affect
A calm to pause, to think, and to reflect.
Serving my subconscious since 1999.