Morning Poem, August 9, 2016



At the moment the night sky pales in the east

One man walks beneath the yellow lights of the train station

He wears a cap and moves toward the depot

Wooden, ancient, narrow and long

The old sign above the door, “Green Cove”

As if he were of its time, of its year.


In the morning coffeehouse the air is sweet

With the fragrances of strong brew espresso

And cinnamon and biscuits from the oven.

And newspapers from cities far away.


“Do you have eggs,” I ask

Though they are not on the chalkboard

With the long list of this bagel and that biscuit

“We do,” she says.  “How do you want ‘em?”


In an adjoining room there are shelves

Of books by local authors

Hardbacks of local and regional craft

Paperbacks of bible lessons.

Outside a new Audi crushes the gravel in the parking lot

Women at a high table look through the window

And know the driver, the new arrival.


Copyright 2016

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Morning Poem, August 9, 2016

  1. labeak52 says:

    zazzy’s. In Abingdon. We hit Mojo’s in Damascus
    for lunch yesterday.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s