"Coffee," A Poetry Post

Some life stories start out
midnight dark,
pitch-black dark,
no porch lights,
no street lights,
piping hot
black coffee dark,
short black mug in a
dark little kitchen,
one chair and a
card table,
folding legs
dark.

Then,
God throws in a
little cream,
a little sugar,
a 50-watt bulb and a
light switch,
solid wood chairs and
a good sturdy table,
a cinnamon roll on a
white saucer...

And suddenly,
misery becomes
having a cup of coffee
on a Sunday
in the way that
grandma used to,
smoke rising from the
mug rim,
index finger tapping on the
edge of the
little white plate,
"mm-mmm" sounds
that mean
"Thank you Lord"
in the middle of
my troubles.

Little hints of tomorrow
make suffering into
a quick sit down
for a drawn out cup
of whatever happens
happens.

-T. D. O. Timothy