Morning Specter
These coffee beans,
crushed to small flecks,
forgot their former shape and texture,
but rise at daybreak to the glass observatory
seeing flashes of light
in geysers of hot water,
percolating, rising lively,
saying, "Wait, wait," wanting
to float in the spectrum,
stretch the wavelengths
before sinking, pulled by undertows,
to the filter for rejuvenation,
where color and character
sweep through porous membrane,
flavoring the warm ocean,
where they willingly surrender
to new vessels.
-- Previously appeared in Buckle &