My morning coffee

I’m taking my morning walk as my coffee awaits with its now familiar flavor and ability to open my eyes to what the day will bring and the wind blows adding to the chill in the air causing the yellowing leaves to fall in my path as a reminder that the season is changing and soon the sun will not bring anything but light because its warmth will be in hibernation for a time that’s somewhat undetermined yet often predicted erroneously and I turn my head and look across the street to the park where I see a runner and I admire her ability and determination as I berate my lack of both until I see her bones protruding through her skin and I am thankful for the ass that attempts to protrude through my jeans because it means that though I could be healthier I am self-aware and accepting of my imperfections and I feel a sort of pity for her obsession and realize that elsewhere lie my own so I end my moment of judgement and continue walking and look up and ask God to allow her to see herself as she is without the words and images of others that have broken her down and as I talk to God I realize I’ve arrived at my destination so I sit with my words and my coffee and allow its steam to warm my hands and I pick up my book and open my note book and I read a page until my attention wanders because the words in my head aware of paper and pen in their proximity are fighting to spill out so I give them their freedom and they escape onto the notebook and as they flow out of me the coffee begins to warm me with its now familiar flavor and it wakes me with its ability to open my eyes to what the day will bring…