I stumble into the kitchen

on a cold October morning

the frosty air biting

my half-open eyes

 

I shakily measure two scoops

of aromatic coffee grounds

and drop them into the white paper filter

 

I press the button

the machine whirs to life

dispensing a steady flow

of piping-hot caffeine

 

I add a river of sweet creamer

light and dark mix

 

I grab the mug

my fingers trace the lines and ridges

in the ceramic warmed

by the steaming liquid

I breathe in the rich scent

as the mug warms my fingers

I’m careful not to burn my tongue

 

sip by sip

my mind starts to awaken

the foggy cold morning lifts

once I’ve had my coffee

I’m ready for anything