Through your open window, morning
Sunlight falls with many sounds
And shapes to tangle in the steam
Rising from the coffee waiting
For your hands to cup, for your lips,
Slightly parted, to kiss the brim
And slowly open to breathe
Deeply; all the better to taste
The bitterly delicious
Undertones of day. A moment,
Then, with head cocked to hear
The raven briefly in your throat
Rising now to rustle dark wings
Over you bent over your work.
*A poem for the painter, MF.