Crashbox

Good Morning

The comfort of the trickling morning pot
Of dark rich coffee, pretty and hot
Mingling with the smell of toast
Thick and buttery, warm from it's roast
Gilded by a rare winter sun rising
Over the frozen rim of our mountainous ring
Lying somber at the edge of sight
The earth raises it's head from a perilous night...
And now, warm like a dear old friend
I pour her down my throat again
To gurgle in my still empty frame
New life to rise from late-night pain