Coffee & Counsel (for M.E.J)
It's funny, we rarely talk about
the weather. Instead we sit behind
our cups and trace the stains
of other counsels across my table cloth.
We talk with words and gestures,
chase the schemes we share.
Then the climate shifts. Our nightmares
begin to cross paths and collide,
bounce ceiling to wall to floor.
Words streak away, we don't know
why, or where. This counsel pulls us
through tunnels and caves, tempered
with her cigarettes, my kettle
and our dreams.
The clock's timebomb ticks,
as our egos click with the sound.
Eyes meet, ponder, as we wander by,
unaware each is catching the other's hell.
All the while, the Swiss Cheeseplant
drips at us, drips across the tablecloth,
tries to recall it's jungle roots. A car
horn shatters our coffeed chit chat.
Deep secrets return to their rightful
place. We go back to the business
of the world. We gather up the cups,
mop away the stains
and hug
and part
and pray
this one is not the last.
© Berenice Dunford 2003 |
This poem was originally written in December 2002, inspired by the hours Ellen and I have spent over countless cups of coffee, putting the world (ours and the rest of...) to rights. Time to pause and share is rare. Such friendship is rare. Jewels in the dark. May such jewels continue to grow and glow. My friends around the world...there are cups reserved for you at the coffee & counsel table...name your brew!!
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