Firestone Friday: Poem XXII

I see you in every mountain, valley, and assembly of water. I feel you in every breeze, raindrop, and patch of sunlight. I hear you in the voices of others, in the tolling bell, and in the neighbor’s music. I smell you in the chain restaurants, the budding flowers, and the decayed leaves. I taste you in my morning coffee, in my hot tea, and in my straight whiskey. Even at the loss of my senses, I could not escape the world in my mind that is crafted in your matter. There is nothing without or within me that occurs to me before going through you, first.

On Drinking

How

are you

my

steaming mug

of coffee,

my

hot-day

lemonade,

and my

whiskey

on the rocks?

_______________________

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