Early Morning Musings

No clear, original thought --

Nor even muddled, stale one.

How does one work through mist and fog?

I am weary, sleepy, achy,

With pen too heavy to lift.

Each eyelash weighs at least a pound.

Two or three mundane thoughts

Play indoor tag,

Ignoring my demand for discipline.

Should I succumb to pillow’s siren call?

Should I wrest control of my (ersatz) mind?

Perhaps .. Perhaps coffee will rouse

Reluctant grey cells.

Coffeepot in hand, water running …

Will coordination last long enough

to fill reservoir?

Without spilling?

Decisions, decisions … How much?

By default, “How much can the pot brew?”

Head bowed, arms braced on counter,

I listen to urgent burbling.

Bleary eyes stare … “Up to there”

When black reaches imaginary line,

I grip handle, pull forward.

Thank God, there’s automatic “hold.”

No three towels needed to sop an uninterrupted stream.

Oversize mug at the ready,

Both hands steadying the pot,

I pour that first cup.

Ahhhh --- nectar of the gods!

A few more sips and even my inner muse might waken.

Boot up computer.

Check today’s “to do” list.

Now then, which job shall I tackle first?