An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

If we could ask  the ancient tree what it has seen  what it has felt  the stories it  could tell us!  To sit underneath the gnarled branches curled up into the sky after years and years! Under a canopy of verdant leaves a coat that changes color with the seasons only to return again! The passing wind lends its words just sit and reflect on whatever it says in the depths of a poet's soul! How wondrous  to hear its voice  how humbling  to listen to its hallowed words  history incarnate!

 a silhouette dark against light  stands on the balcony  the artist draws only what she can see the black pastel crayon  copies a strong outline  but features are lost  who is this mysterious wraith in the night? it does not matter  for we can tell  the unique shadow

Center  breathe deeply block out all distractions  focus  let your energy  flow  through you tap  your inner power  visualize  stay in control  emotion  has its place  time seems to slow strike  hard and true  triumph

The ancients  sought a  magic elixir  for youth  vitality  and eternal life  alchemical formulae penned by wise men from long ago minerals from nature's bounty with such mystical properties of the sun and the moon of the spirit and the soul gold, mercury  cinnabar, lead  the pursuit  of knowledge  can be a  poisonous  endeavor  indeed

Love is strange:  I owe her  my very existence  but accidents happen  and she always  reminded me of it  but filial piety  so strong  and enforced  the guilt  seeped into  my very bones  so maternal love  contradictory  wrapped within  obligation  but she is  still my mother

The soft mellow sound of the horn accompanied by the gentle tinkling of the keys the singer's bold contralto  is smoky like the cigar smoke of a long forgotten age of backroom agreements the murmur of patrons who barely even notice the musical notes held frozen in place A bygone age of leading men and sultry sirens as I sit at the bar and offer a toast to days gone by.

Fluffy wisps  you can  get lost  within  the mass of  cotton tendrils wrapped within  ice crystals  and they carry  the weight  of life giving water until the burden becomes too great and they shower the land with cool storms

That first impression  that meeting of eyes  has more of an effect  than you realize  A quick appraisal  a judge of your soul  can change your path  and derail your goal.  Is this a threat or is this already written? Is this just your fate or are you just smitten? An instinct right here  to reach for his hand  and follow his footsteps  across a barren sand

Mother hates tattoos she thinks they are tacky  unattractive  a sign of a criminal  She talked about them behind their back but never directly to their faces Husband thinks  those who have them  are rebels against  polite society  He says he believes in live and let live but he always has a definite opinion I believe that  they are beautiful art  an expression of  individuality The colors and patterns fascinate my creative eye perhaps one day I get pictures of my own

Face florid with wine  unfocused gaze  the men's smiles do not reach their eyes the women titter behind their fans the servants go about with averted faces and the duchess  once again  goes to bed  alone.

It is spring  the seedling  pokes its leaves  out of the soil  It is summer  it flourishes  in the bright sun  the flowers bright  It is autumn  it shivers in the cold  it knows its time  fast approaches  It is winter  its roots shrivel  the cold freezes  it no longer breathes A new seed  slumbers deep  underground the cycle continues.

Long long ago  carved in rock  painted on leather  words of love  and protection  and revenge  a runic incantation charged with every bit of spiritual intention a declaration of thought this pagan poetry  still has a magic  every time the words  are read aloud by the living the bond is unbroken the curse is ongoing the weaver lives anew

One man's villain  is another man's hero  whose side are you on?  One man's rebel  is another man's  freedom fighter  One man's genius  is another man's  madman  One man's pariah is another man's savior Whose side are you on?

Cut with the grain not against it  stick with the pattern the needle drives the thread  with every push  of the pedal  pins and backing seams and zippers the mannequin stands ready for its brand new outfit why make a bespoke one when you can buy cheaply? each garment is fresh a unique expression of art what seems like a lost art  is alive and well  a practical skill  in this day and age

Prisms of light  broken up  by fresh drops  that run down  the glass  A dark background the stormy sky lightning above illuminates the inky blackness Can you see  your own reflection  is it crystal clear  or is it shattered  by thunder outside?

On the beach  walk along the  sandy dunes the wind in your hair  salt on the breeze  foam on the waves  feel the power  roll in the sea  encroach on the land the cry of the gulls the sparkle of the sun all together in harmony

lurch upwards  out of a waking dream  don't know if  I'm still asleep  they all stare  with fake concern  maybe I'm crazy perhaps I'm lazy or I nap in the weirdest places in public but this is not  the world in where  I belong. And that other dimension is already fast fading into my dark subconscious

They say money  does not buy  happiness  that you can  be poor  yet be content  with your lot in life  Quite philosophical That may be true  but having  enough to eat  and a roof  over your head  gives you time  to spout philosophy.

Mix the batter  pour it out  onto the pan  oven already  warmed  the dog  and the cat  sit in front  of the door tails wag in anticipation  not because  to warm their paws but to wait  for a batch  of delicious treats

Try to understand  the words slip  between your fingers  and burn your toes  head spins because  you cannot connect what is being said to what you understand a molten logic  that sears your brain  and life doesn't  make sense anymore