Snow falls silently outside

And the still of the morning

Is pleasantly preserved.

I stare into the endless

Swirling eddies of steam

Wafting up from the hot

Mahogany, life-giving

Ambrosia before me.

A sip, and I am lost in the

burnished, heady brew.

The starter spins — nothing.

I take another glorious sip.

More spinning–nothing.

There’s enough light now

To see the deer feeder

Out the back window;

I’m glad it’s empty again.

One more sip now, and —

Vrooooom!

Now where did I put that

Bag of feed for the deer?