Morning Coffee

I’ve been up for hours now…

I’ve made the coffee. Read a few pages of Churchill while I waited for it to brew.
A fascinating history of the English Civil War!

I’ve run my five miles. Had to do some stretching at mile three.
Had to walk for a bit. Tomorrow, I’ll bike.

I’ve typed my thoughts for the day. At least five hundred words.
I  think I read  that somewhere. To become a better writer. Maybe I should type
a thousand. I tried to write a poem; it needs some work; the images can’t be seen.

I’ve walked the dog. Looked at the setting moon on the horizon. He looked too.

Now I’ve brought you coffee as you wake up, tousle-haired and groggy .

I’ve gotten so much done!

But I haven’t talked to you yet-
We haven’t shared our morning coffee.
I haven’t gotten to the best part of my day-sharing everything I’ve already done with you
as you look at me over your steaming mug with your bleary eyes and your beautiful lips.

Listening to you as you talk about your plans for the day.

The coffee is so good,  rich and strong.

You’re going to be late to work you exclaim!
It’s already 7:15, you remind me.

But there’s still some coffee left to drink.

I’ll make it.

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