Each Sunday I publish a poem about some aspect of creative working and living. This week’s inspirational poem: “Good Coffee” is about a woman I saw at a table outside a local cafe. First, my eye was drawn by her tremors, a feature of her age, then what I was seeing took a twist.
I have a poster in my kitchen that says “Coffee is the fuel that fires the dreams of heroes”. She seemed a total hero to me.
A woman at the cafe table, age-quavering,
tributaries of wrinkles obscuring the faded
flint in her eye, a dash of cappuccino foam
on her chin. She is struggling with her cup,
that's big as a bowl and full to the brim,
too heavy for wrists so thin. When it slips
and spills she submits, switches to spoon.
Lifts to lips that slowly but eagerly open
a trembling thimbleful. Eyes closed,
she takes in her ration. And then.
A lifetime's joy in good coffee erupts in
a glorious grin. She sits up, spoons again.