coffee house
a year ago, this room
was filled with reclaimed
lumber and pregnant dreams;
now I sit in my spot,
trying to give birth to
new ideas as though
I have always come here.
the path from then
to now is not mapped,
but discovered -- looking
back into the woods
of hope and friendship,
of late nights and failures,
of sweat and smiles and stories
in which we live and
draw our circles -- the paths
that keep coming back
to this clearing,
this prayerbook of a coffee shop,
where they call our names
when all is ready.
Peace,
Milton
