I opened a book
of beautiful poems
 to read
the morning was crisp but warm
the patio alive
with humming birds
flitting here and there
a Bewick Wren sang a duet
with a trickling stream
they filled
the sky blue air
with their morning serenade
swirls of cream
spun like an eddy
and painted my coffee
with ripples of sand
that led to
 an ocean of life
a sharp tangy aroma
from the depth of the cup
aroused the senses of my being
as I swirled my nectar
and watched it spin
the warmth of its life
caressed the souls of my fingers
I tried to read my life
and where it began
and where it was going
and where it would end
I heard the chirping of the wrens
the trickling of the stream
but any news from the nectar
was only to be a dream

gs batty/march 2013         


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