Lakeside morning
engage in conversation with the birds
who woke before you but waited patiently.
No, I'm not ready yet
but just another few moments
there
there
ok...
The picture on the table
reminds me of someone else
but I don't know either of them
and the sound of your voice
reminds me of you -
isn't that funny?
Or maybe I'm just not as funny as I think I am
this early in the morning.
Lakeside morning...
I wish I was at the lake, actually
but I'm here in the city.
City mornings don't bother me
but there's nothing unusual about them
and I do so like the unusual...
except when it comes to my morning coffee.
Coffeeside morning...
day in and day out
and in and out
and day after day
and night after day after month after week
and... what did you say?
...
ok...
just a moment.
Hello, birds.
Where's my coffee?
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7 comments:
comment: this reminded me a lot of something i might write. therefore, of course, i like it. :)
criticism: my one criticism is that the voice is inconsistent. it changes from the first to second half. and that doesn't have to be a bad thing, but imo, if the voice/narrative style changes, it should serve a specific purpose, which i'm not sure it does here ((other than to show the narrator's thoughts wandering, but i thought that was already happening with the first bit).
anyway. i like it. nice images of coffee, lake, birdsongs, meditation, and stuff.
p.s. after another read, i would almost divide it into two parts-- I and II --
part I ends at "but i'm here in the city".
I think I was trying to capture the meandering path from sleeping to being awake - but not all the way yet, hence the coffee!
i feel like this every morning.
It's funny how you read things, and it's just so much about the reader.
Today, I'm feeling sad, but stable. :)
And this makes me think that it is, day by day, that's all it can ever be, that's all it was meant to be.
Moment by moment
You reminded me of
a voice
is that funny?
I am lakeside
coffee for coffee
blood for blood
just a moment
unusual
and here it
comes
here it comes
Sounded like the cry of a Wolfie to me too.
hold on
to the coffee
to the lake
to the unusual moment
to the voice
to the funny
and when it comes
hold on tight
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