Espresso

This morning I thought to myself that I need a shift in environment to get the creativity flowing again. No matter how much intention I had or will power, the same home office surroundings always led me to focus on work at hand. What was part of a morning routine isn't here at present.

I headed out to take a seat at the lake and though my mind was still in "office" mode, I prompted myself to just pickup the proverbial pen and just write, because simply I pondered why not now? There was no need for a run up or some complex premedidations. This is a reminder to myself that simply doing trumps all the thought processes you can burn time on. Especially for the things you want to do in life.

This poem is about coffee and is not new. I've written about coffee a few times already and its something I am routinely doing so much so that when I close my eyes I can imagine the process with all its textures, sounds and smells.

For those who I've not connected with for some time, here's an espresso (poem) for you.

Morning Espresso

A dreary flick of the switch
Ignites the purr of pumps,
Prompting the heater twitch
Into life the machine jumps.

The canister opens with a hiss,
Revealing dark brown mosaic
Notes of an aroma release
A 21gram scooped and raked.

Another machine readily awaits
This time metal teeth whirs
Hungrily waiting for beans
Crunch crackle goes the burrs.

The portafilter hot and ready
Moves to the tamper mat
Fine grinds pour in imperfectly
Puck prep transforms it flat.

With not much left to go
The last step is near
Pull the lever to let it flow.
The morning espresso’s here.