Poetry · Writing

A Morning Meditation

With two hands
I take the antique machine
Down from its shelf
Open it and
Pour in the beans.
Dark and aromatic

Closing the lid,
I turn the crank
In a slow
Rhythmic motion
And I drift

Listening to the sound
Of the beans
Being crushed
And crushed again
Into the soft, light powder
For the espresso pot

My antique coffee grinder
My antique coffee grinder

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5 thoughts on “A Morning Meditation

  1. I love the photo of the grinder. I didn’t know about that! And I can smell the aroma of the beans in the poetry. Lovely!

    1. I’m glad that the poem conveyed the scent of the beans. The grinder was part of a gift from Maurie when we were living in Olympia. It accompanied a french press (now broken when it got knocked over at work two years ago) and a pound of Batdorf and Bronson Dancing Goats blend. The intention was that I take a bit of time out of running all over the capitol campus to sit still and fix myself a treat. It worked!

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