Poem...The Bath

The Bath


Submerged under the steam,
I steep until the water tastes of me
me tea
By my own hand,
using the stuff from ballerina tutus of long ago
and mountains of foamy bubbles
I slough off
that which has had most sensual contact
with the day
Why?
Like an oil slick
there I am
individual cells of me
floating on the very surface
trying to make contact
with me again
before they exit,
lifeless.....down to
mingle with cells of countless others
never ever to know one another
John Updike said it best,
"As in sleep we need to dream,
so while waking, we need to touch and talk
to be touched and talked to.."
now I wait
the new me
all pink and soft and ready
just waiting for tomorrow
for you
to fill my senses
Touch me, talk to me
let me breathe you in...
I won't bathe until
you have sunk all the way
down deep
into my heart
where no water or cleanser or bubbles or scrub brush
will ever... ever... ever
wash you away.

How do you take your coffee?

Ahhh, that first cup of coffee in the morning.. The rich earthy smell of freshly ground beans, measured precisely, cold water up to there, poured into the top of the machine, water in the well already hot and dripping through the grounds to make that cup of coffee strong, but not bitter. Elixir that awakens my senses. I'm even fussy about the mug. I can't just grab anything to pour the brew into. I like an old pottery mug, maybe even has a chip or crack in it, but it has a great feel in my hand. Just a dash of half and half if I'm lucky, but most days, it's a spoonful of creamer. Funny, I don't like coffee with milk in it, especially skim milk. My grandfather always used the powdered creamer. It was kept in a small brown jar on the counter. After he died, that was all I wanted..that little pot of creamer. The powdered stuff is not so great, it's the memories.. I used to like to sit on the big porch at the house and listen to the world wake up. Now, I'm the toast and coffee girl for the elders at 5:45am, so after they've gotten their early morning cups of java, maybe I can take mine and head out onto the courtyard to embrace my cup of coffee and the early morning wake up calls, too.
Several years ago, my husband and I gave each other almost the same gift for Christmas, for the very same reason. We gave one another journals. Why? What would life be like if all of a sudden we couldn't communicate anymore. Would anyone know our likes and dislikes? How would anyone know that I hate sugar in my coffee?! Would anyone know that I love new age music, but I hate grating classical that sounds like a bad piano lesson? Think about it. What are your likes and dislikes? Would anyone know how you would want things if you couldn't talk or communicate anymore? Write them down. Put the list or the journal somewhere where a special person can find it and make your life as normal for you as possible. Tell them how you take your coffee.