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