Welcoming Arm

Never seen nothing like this before

Everyone running around

A man lays lifeless on the ground

Not sure who he was

Or where he was from

On the streets of South Bend

Under a cool autumn sun

The cops came up

Looking to keep him breathing

Not much was happening

I could see then

I was in my car

They were on the street

I have no skills to save lives

A subtle feeling of defeat

A man on the street laid out

Long grey hair

Khaki trousers

I could see what was happening

In a few days loved one will bring flowers

To put to rest this loved soul

I do not know him

And never will

But I am sure he has a great story to tell

He may have been a wanderer

Or a businessman

A plumber

Or a musician

His shoes worn in and worker brown

The paramedics rushed in

While others gathered around

I was struck with emotion

As the scene unfolded

No wife with him

Or a hand for holdin’

There he lay lifeless

All I do is ask the good lord to bless

This man and either deliver him safely

Back into this world unharmed

Or greet him at the doors of heaven

With a welcoming arm

God speed dear friend

The Gathering Cup

This is a truly ironic poem. I noticed it after writing it – because even though there are major crimes that go on in these countries (including the USA) I would wish to think that the coffee cup brings out the best of different cultures. Blame it on being naive, but it is a wish that I have. That somehow this bean is something that all people can relate on – unpretentious and simple. But obviously I know that where money goes follows corruption and tragedies of humanity. So I write this about the cafe – where people come to join. I have never been to Kenya, Ethiopia, Guatemala, or Mexico all that I do know about these places extend from my love of coffee. So here it is a simple poem trying to look at the brighter side of things and enjoy – best served with a pour over. Cheers!

The Gathering Cup
Kenya, Ethiopia, Guatemala, and Mexico
Gather here in this sacred place
Where aroma lifts slowly off frothed steel jugs
Dripping water slowly and carefully
Tender caress with no mistake
Roasting perfect and smooth
Lifts the mind and body
Brought back to the clanging of changing cups
Clearing out old liquids to make room for new
Splashing hot water into cracks and cleansing
Banging of tin and steel
Bringing out the thoughts of perfection
Conversations spiral softly and incoherent
Lips embrace subtle rounded porcelain
A gathering room for stories of wild fields
Both near and far
Take these memories where you are
The electricity huzzes and buzzes
Soft as a bee landing in the hive
Settling the feet ever so gentle
Charging the ice makers and MP3 players
A meeting place for like-minded
Or adverse minded
No one really minds
On certain days Matt will make a particularly good brew
Done with care to temperature and form
With pure focus
Now I return to my gathering cup
To the flavors of Kenya, Ethiopia, Guatemala, and Mexico
Rejoice