“Coffee Sir?”
A voice comes out of no where
As I sit at my favorite spot
At a table in the back meadow out in the middle of my forest
No one around
Except for Mr. Toad
Always there to serve
That morning coffee
I sit out here
For reasons I do not know
First thing in the morning
A good way to start my day
The sun just coming through the pine trees
Sometimes a clear sky
Lately every day is clear
But the marine layer of fog will soon come
Along with that mood
Talk about mood ...
… sometimes a mood hangs over my head
My soul
I speak words inside my head
With an attempt to describe that mood
… other times I speak just words of frustration
Complaining if I were honest
Rationalizing if I were not.
“Bothered Sir?”
And then
Once I calm down enough and be still
I hear, or feel, those words
Mr. Toad again?
Nope that is a story for my grand children
This is real
Not the first time either
I answer
Knowing that he will indeed listen
Tells me he will listen for as long as I keep coming
He holds out more than a cup of Joe, “Proper Joe”
In his hand is water
To refresh me
Quench my thirst
On these dry and dark days
He offers me living water
Water that sustains me
So my days start with “Morning Coffee”
And living water.
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