Cups of Java or Cups of Tea? Me, I just need my:
Every single day for years, my morning’s not replete
until my poem is published—polished and complete.
I meander through my sentences until I think they’re done,
and then I herd them into shape—each metaphor and pun.
My need is pathological to get them all just right.
I love words’ sensuality, their pathos and their bite.
Though some have a reluctance to show up when I call them,
there’s a satisfaction when I finally recall them.
What would I do with mornings if I had no words to play with?
There’d be nothing else for me to find to fill my day with!