cinnamon sprinkle, anticipation of the autumn
blueberries baked, almost feel the cool breezes
feeding a stereotype, contemplative coffee-sipper
stare out the window
to round up my thoughts
it must mean more to feel the fingers on the page
to keep the printing press oiled
some resemblance of human
this you say as you rush, blenders and mixers
is this your art or your work?
watch their exchange, the naming of names
more than a game - this is home, this is space
soy and agave and dark and light roasts
swishing and washing and pouring
"extra-special order", we call it with grace
though extra, we need you to pay
these sounds and routines and rushing around
give rhythm to a mind that's been scattered 'round
your chaos is my put-togetherness
your ignoring, my attention paid
a day to gather, and dream of the months
when scarves will wrap 'round
eyes will shut tight
against winds and cold; I anticipate.
your banters and love and schedules
will continue on, uninterrupted
and I will come seeking and finding
familiarity in your names and home;
maybe, to me, you'll say, "welcome home".
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