Coffee belongs to earth,
It is first a tree,
then a nut,
then roasted,
over the bodies of more trees.
over the bodies of more trees.
Finally, it is ground,
into dirt.
And smells like earth, and leather, and musk.
Milk belongs to the sky.
It comes from a beast,
painted with images of impressionist clouds.
It is pulled down and down and down,
hitting pails of metal,
like rain on a roof.
It has no scent,
unless sour.
It is white like the sky and cream
shifts through it like sylphs.
When coffee meets milk.
Poured so slowly,
it is a great conception.
White meeting black
Bold finding sweetness
Swirling together in cups,
which are memories embodied.
And together they soften, and
make bearable the passage,
of earth meeting sky.
