What is this liquid heat I have guzzled on mornings beyond count?
Is it dirt – black and grainy?
Is it root or bark – ground and bitter without any sweetness?
From where does it collect its flavor?
Does the sun, source of fire and warmth
add to its astringent taste?
Like a soul, it must be finely ground
to be useful.
Some say it comes from a bean grown on tree or bush.
I say it is liquid Earth
black, oily delight for my spirit.
©poem and photo by caf