Nectar From The Bean

Swirls of sensations dance on my tongue

as sweet delight fills me.

The rhythmic pounding that

was trapped in my brain edges away.

Each sip—a rejuvenating relief

and I am able to see in HD,

to hear the wings of a fly,

to smell the faint trace of rain to come.

These perceptions soften the blows

from a once dull state of mind.

My focus can zero in on my feet

and make out the blue spots

that litter my purple shoes,

because I couldn’t control the spray paint.

The free wind rages on,

but my hand still holds crystallized cubes

that huddle in the cold brew.

As the java travels

through the tunnel—destination

my stomach—I can feel

the magical, dulcet drink

revive me.

And so the mug witnesses

the rise and fall of the shine

that brings about a new day

and waits for a new cup to be poured.