Poem: Morning Thievery

Morning Thievery

You sip coffee
as the morning people,
and those who are not,
pass by,

all in a rush,
a familiar group of strangers
that have populated your morning ritual
for years.

You know them by their gait,
by their choice of daily caffeine,
by the look of sadness or joy or boredom
that infuses their eyes, day after day, as if

their lives were a tale told over and over,
without escape, while yours
seems to blow like a leaf in the autumn wind,
a speck of color lilting to and fro,

sometimes caught in the light of joy,
someteimes in the dark shadow of life's clouds. Ah,
but to those strangers who know you in the same vague way,
by your sitting in the first window table,

with a cup of the house blend,
and the small black book where you write each morning
without expression, so they can not know
you are a pirate, a poet,

stealing the day's treasure of moments,
the rise and fall of life's light,
the quiet tender embrace of God,
and the devil's dance.

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The picture was taken at Mill Mountain Coffee and Tea in Daleville, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.