Published in WayWords Literary Journal 13

The icy trees that catch the breeze in lazy undulation
The quiet thrum and gentle hum of distant conversation
A hollow thud of glass and mug atop the kitchen table
The whoosh click whirr and bubbling purr of boiling the kettle
A pour, a pause, the steady drips; a fragrant cloud of heat
A scale that dances up in pitch as mug and coffee meet
A gentle melancholy wrapped in wood-stove smoke and plaid
As far as winter mornings go, this one’s not so bad