Mornings at Sixty-Seven

Before my rejuvenatement, I was crazed in an all-consuming job  — well, being honest  — I let it be all-consuming. I used to blame caffeine for my hyper and frenzied approach to life.

So here I am, drinking the same amount of coffee, savoring it rather than gulping it, and mea culpa  to the goddess caffeine. Slowing down, my body – not my mind, has made all the difference.

Mornings at Sixty-Seven

Eyes open unbuzzed awake
see him next to me half-covered
grey hair matted with sleep.

Legs stretch with pointed toes
while arms uncoil overhead
the body lumbers out of bed.

Breakfast made and savored
rich aromatic espresso beans
fingers smudged tasting newsprint ink.

At sixty-seven,
my mornings have elongated
into the sublime.

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