It’s really only ever
The little simple things
Like the gurgle hiss
And spit of a
Kettle set to boil
As the first glow
Of day washes over
Last nights late snow
And chickadees bounce and
Bob skitter and slide
On the frozen birdbath
Like children wearing skates
As I spoon splash
And stir dark roast
Into a now warmed
Coffee press watching as
Grounds drop and emerge
Like we did that
One July day so
Very very long ago
In ponds out back
This is my morning
Of memories every day
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 