I knocked back the last swallow of my coffee
the taste of it was the smell of Wrightwood
the first week of November...
cold enough to snow, whether it has or not...
the smell of frigid autumn evening...
still enough light for the walk home,
but no more sun to pierce a crack
in the mountain line...
the pines...
the crisp air on my tongue...
and most of all, the touch of fire from a multitude of hearths,
like sentinels lining my path home...
what a conflation of memory and sense...
and all from a cup of - no...
from the dregs of
a cup of coffee.
- 6/12/13.
A shorty today for a nostalgic weekend with visiting family... With appreciation to Rogue Valley Roasting Company for providing the path to memories of many a walk to home.
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