Magic

October morning—

the second cup of coffee

works its black magic.

Death

a friend’s sudden death—

even my morning coffee

gives me no pleasure

Bitter spring morning—

over her bony shoulders

she drapes a thin shawl.

Early morning rain—

the shadow of the blackbird

dissolves drop by drop.

On Easter morning

a wren near the kitchen door

trills a brand-new song.

Icy spring morning—

even the red rooster’s crow

is stuck in his throat.

Sunday morning blues—

a cup of bitter cocoa

as the spirit moves