I wish I could drink coffee every day


I try to make it a good thing, a healthier thing.

My special brew is ½ decaf, and yet still so rich,

and I make it sweet, I love it sweet.

But with Stevia, not sugar.

Almond Milk, not half & half.


There’s many a morning I when wake strong, and can freely, do the deed:

Boil my kettle

Flip open the tall canister

Smell and spoon into a brown filter.

Pour and release the deep seductive

juices and oils from picked, ground, flow-around

dark roasted beans.

I swirl the spoon to achieve a flat-bottom of damp grinds,

as the tide recedes above, filling the dark cave below.

Lifting and peeking at the level in my heavy cup.

Removing the cone,

 I stir one full circuit before the sip.

That first wafting, lip caressing, trip

over my tongue, up my nose, and down to belly.

Carefully because it’s really hot.

Then prepare for another

Then another




So damn good.

And I usually only have that one cup.

I have a vast array

of teas for the rest of the day and night..

See how hard I try.


But of course, eventually, even that careful amount becomes too much for my frail constitution.


I’ve been too hard on my body.

I have eroded my headroom for indulgences, for delicious addictions.

I survived the other perfumes,

and icy-hot crystals in my nose and throat.

Of expanding smoke in my lungs, and burps of earthy things you aren’t really supposed to eat.

And purged only to consume more in the next instant


Years and years of this.

So now my little cup of Jo is too much.


I will start to feel a warning in my throat foretelling the end of this run…  get a mild cold after a few weeks or, if I’m lucky, after a month of special mornings.


I’m always bummed though.

Always hope this time it won’t happen

But inevitably, it’s back to the tea drawer for mornings too.

Until the throat clears, and the health meter has clawed back up to an acceptable range.

Maybe not even waiting until I’m at full-power again

Because it’s just too unfair!

The injustice of morning tea sometimes overwhelms common sense.


This morning, will be like that.

I’m at 90%, and its good enough.

The leaves are scarlet and orange outside my window, and there’s a crap-load of wood to stack.

 I’ll build an outdoor fire in my pit.

I will happily work my land, but I’m not doing it without