is sweet, savory, seasoned
taste, of black gold.
The evening family meals over
a steamy cup of bitter-sweet nectar.
so profound, it’s memory is unforgettable.
The smooth flow of ambrosia
clenching the thirst of millions,
and it’s a legal
It is like the
on a cold winter morning.
Coffee is served black,
like pure crude from the depths of our withholding earth.
It’s color untouched as it comes
from the clutches of the straw sacks.
The ceaseless darkness
is so pure
that it evokes the most bloodcurdling
It is like the night sky over the vast field
obscurity veiled my visions, as
a black, beautiful, blunt tang.
It is the energy,
that drives you during the late night shifts,
the closing eyes, dreadful sleep washing over you like the relentless waves of the ocean pounding on the coast,
and with a single cup, gone.
The steam rising beyond the boundary containing nature’s gift to man,
freshly grounded, from a flame kissed bean
from reddened berries, they descend.
Picked by negligent hands,
and with a gentle touch they a are brought down
to be enjoyed.
The spur of coffee is nature’s gift to man.