September morning—
 
I linger over coffee
 
till the fog burns off.

 
 

Late-summer breakfast—
 
black coffee leaks from a crack
 
in my old white cup.

 
 
 

bitter iced coffee
 
to help swallow bitter news—
 
dog days of August

 
 

Father’s Day coffee
 
while remembering his quirks—
 
restless butterfly

 
 

Procrastinating,
 
sipping coffee drop by drop—
 
those spring chores will wait.

 
 
 

I don’t ask for much—
 
a warm bed on wintry nights,
 
and breakfast coffee.

 
 
 

simple winter joys—
 
the fragrance of fresh coffee
 
and a piece of toast

 
 
 

My desires are few:
 
some sun, some coffee, and you
 
on a winter’s day.

 
 
 

Cold November day—
 
I linger over coffee
 
and Sappho’s poems.

 
 
 

Early morning rain—
 
I linger over coffee
 
and write some haiku.