Coffee with cream,
steaming into dawn as
a sweet breeze sifts my hair.
Eyes closed in stillness
I hear the ocean in these rustling, rustling leaves
as if the trees speak in the language of waves.
And I wonder if, instead
it’s the ocean calling with the voices of trees.
As the rising steam moves softly sideways and away
I imagine these trees speaking of the shore
the ocean dreams of the forest.
And coffee with cream
shifts the waves
of morning leaves.
Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography