my morning coffee

I make my coffee this morning
Measuring and grinding the beans
Tamping the grounds into place
Watching the brown stream flow into the little pitcher
Steaming the milk with syrups
(a black forest latte, my choice)
Pouring it all together
What a lot of work for a morning beverage
And, this morning, a mourning beverage
As I remember, my hands remember, my senses remember
Making a latte for Jerrad
And his brief conflict with his wife over a shot of Baileys
He didn’t put it in
And I didn’t add one this morning
It is morning after all
But maybe tonight I’ll have Baileys in my coffee
And drink to Jerrad

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4 Responses to my morning coffee

  1. Terri says:

    A toast to his life…Bailey’s and coffee seem like a fine way to do that. (although I quite agree, not in the morning…)

  2. Leslie Batty says:

    A lovely tribute. I hope you are well and finding comfort when you most need it.

  3. deanna Long says:

    This is so you! I can just picture you doing each step…thinking all the time.

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