Cold Brew


Is there a tonic quicker than the cold
upon my face, while leather warms my hands
and walking feet? The morning air is bold
as crystal, sharp and clean, and it commands
brisk attitude from what was weary me.
It polishes my cheeks with icy sting
and coaxes open eyes to clearly see
through tearing chill the edge of everything.

And what’s the tranquilizer that can top
the evening I have built myself tonight?
Alone within my living room, I stop
the usual, attend the firelight,
and start the music over, while I sit
among the purple candles I have lit.

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