Friday, September 14, 2012

Morning Chill

A crack in my ankle alterts a forecast, densely grey. 
 The warmth of a nights slumber accompanies me to the kettle. 
No matter how full my mind already may be, 
I'm renewed by the crackling brew of Coffee. 
A ritual which wards off all concerns. 
When late morning rolls around, my body feels cold, rigid, 
exposed to the elements; 
desperately seeking that warmth now gone. 
I take to tea, by one piping hot cup after another. 
It steadily gets me through the afternoon. 
By evening, I seek a rosy cheeked wine, 
to blanket the silent echos of night.   
Then, with a good morning to midnight, 
I take to my feathered nest.  

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