Coffee With Dawn

(I dredged this piece up from an old prose journal entry, hacked at least half of it away, and versified the remnants for this week’s Writer’s Pantry. Still needs work, but…)


Coffee With Dawn

He activates the pickup’s wipers,
adjusts and readjusts their swipe
to clear the fog he drives through,
wishing he could clear his own.

He sings to the wipers’ rhythms.
Composed, at last, he arrives
and steps out into his favorite
bookstore’s pre-dawn café,
his early-morning Mecca.

Today the place is his alone.
The friendly gang of geezers
usually there to greet him
hasn’t yet arrived.

He’s happy to sit, alone
with only his favorite journal,
basking in the kind ministrations
of the smiling sunrise barista.

Poets And Storytellers United
Writers’ Pantry #55

18 thoughts on “Coffee With Dawn

  1. My husband used to drive a truck and I accompanied him a few times. Your poem reminded me of those trips and how he described the ones he took on his own -that could be him wishing he could clear his fog and singing to the wipers’ rhythms. Thank goodness for the ‘smiling sunrise barista’.

  2. How has quarantine affected your morning coffee meets. I find cancelling lunch with friends and card games has limited my social life a great deal. Wondering if it’s done the same for you.

  3. Wow. Luv the comforting companionship of nature.
    Happy Sunday.
    Thanks for dropping by my blog today


  4. Oh my … makes me question having coffee the minute I get up each day … maybe I’d be better off driving a ways, clearing some of the fog before dousing my brain with caffeine?
    (This reads beautifully – great demonstration of reducing prose into poem for focus.)

  5. I too like the way the wipers set the rhythm and tone of your lovely poem.
    I understand clearing the fog – it takes me a good hour to clear mine every morning and then my brain activates!
    Anna :o]

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