Life Is Good--One Step At A Time

Life Is Good
By Bill Kirk

She wakes early,
Before first light
And slowly makes her way to the kitchen
To start the coffee ritual.
Her footsteps are muffled by thick, woolen socks
Pulled on out of habit—
Even in summer.

The house is quiet
And will be for another hour,
Except for the occasional creak or pop
In floors, ceilings and walls,
Just as old bones are also sometimes wont to do.
It’s odd that those noises always seem to be
Upstairs or in the next room—
Present but never proximate,
As if the house wants the attention—
Letting you know
It should not be taken for granted.

What makes those noises anyway—
In bones and boards?
Are people like houses when they get old?
Come to think of it,
Old ships are like that, too,
What with their snaps and cracks
From movement on the water,
Even when safely sheltered.

She feels that way sometimes—
Just an old girl with ancient ribs and joints
Making noises as all the pieces and parts
Settle and resettle into place.
But not today.

Today the noises don’t matter.
She has no time for feeling old.
For this day, she has fifty miles ahead of her—
On foot; uphill and down,
Over rocky, narrow trails
Carved out through the heavy underbrush
Of ancient forests by pack mules, horses and pioneers.

Today, she will join the company
Of thousands of her comrades,
Both past and present,
Once again, experiencing a level of
Anticipation, pain and exhilaration
Shared by few.

But now in this quiet moment,
Like no other in its simplicity,
She savors the first steamy sips
Of rich, dark coffee laden with
Fresh cream and sugar—
The steady warmth radiating from her core.

Cradling a comfortable old mug in her hands,
She closes her eyes, thankful for this day.
Then, as if in prayer,
She imagines the start of her long day’s journey—
The steady cadence during twelve hours
Of her 80,000 foot strikes,
As she leaves her own transitory yet enduring
Marks on the trail—
The next first steps of the rest of her life.

It’s almost time to lace up.
Life is good.

The Writer's Life On Some Distant Earth-Like Planet

"The grizzled writer (place yourself in this paragraph) wakes to the smell of fresh, strong brewed coffee wafting through the air from a steaming, old-fashioned percolator atop the ancient gas stove. Just the mere thought of that first sip is enough to force calloused feet into slippers/sandals/old deck shoes. Pulling on the tattered sweatshirt/sweater/shawl and jeans/chinos/kakhis, the author finally begins his/her morning trek, moving slowly yet deliberately across the well-worn hardwood toward the familiar kitchen.

The immediate objective is to retrieve the large, heavy, up-side-down mug---rinsed out, never washed---from the drain board between the chipped porcelain sink and stove. Not until the coffee is poured, the brew properly concocted to taste, the aroma fully savored and the first, stimulating sip has meandered past waiting taste buds en route to its target somewhere between heart and soul, does the author acknowledge the day to no one in particular. Then and only then can even the thought of this day's writing begin.

On the dark wooden desk an old manual typewriter waits for the imprint of leathery finger tips ready to attack. Looking through the open French doors and beyond the porch, the author scans the approaching tide for inspiration, waves providing a steady but variable rhythm punctuated by the call of sea birds searching for weak or unfortunate links in the food chain.
All is right with the world. Let the writing begin."

Hello.... Earth to Earth-like planet. Good luck with that. Reality check to follow....

The Holiday Rush

I don't have to tell you this. But it's busy this time of year.

On the one hand, it's busier than it ought to be--you know, just enough to make complaining seem to be the natural order of things: if only the mall wasn't so crowded and there were more parking spaces available and where is all this traffic coming from any way? Don't people have to work any more?

On the other hand, aren't we all just a little glad everything is so hectic? It means people have a little money (or a little plastic) in the pockets for a change. It means store inventory is moving--maybe not as fast or as much as shop-keepers would like, but still.

Spirits are lifted and people seemed a bit lighter on their feet as they move from one spot to the next. Maybe it's the weather. Cool and crisp isn't so casual. It's button up, pay attention, get what you need and move on. The livin' ain't easy in winter.

Then, again, maybe it's the coffee that's putting the spring in our step. Ah, kaffe! What would we do without it? Why, it's almost critical enough to want to say a little prayer for just the right amount of corporate wisdom at Starbuck's to keep any more stores from closing--unless your preference these days has shifted to Mickey D's, that is.

Well if it is the coffee, here's a little something to linger over as you savor your morning mug. Enjoy....

Ahhh! Café, Kaffe, Coffee
By Bill Kirk

To paraphrase the bard,
Would coffee by any other name
Taste, you know, like coffee?
Why, how could the question even be asked?
From the devout, there can be only one reply:
“Yes, a thousand times, yes!”

For proof, just consider the choices
In origins, types, flavors and roasts,
Not to mention all the little extras on the side—
And the methods of preparation.

Why, there’s café, café au lait, café latte,
Capucino, espresso, java and joe.
Get it for “here” or get it to go.
As for types, what’s you pleasure?
“High test”, half-caf, or de-caf?
Columbian, Kona, Mountain Grown (isn’t it all?),
Roasted dark, medium or light?
Then there’s Irish Cream, Vanilla Nut,
Macadamia and Chocolate.

As for additives, don’t get me started.
Well, OK. You don’t have to get me started.
I’m already there.
I mean, what’s not to like about all those sprinkles
From chocolate to cinnamon to nutmeg.

Not to mention the milk.
You got your non-fat, half and half, whole
And even whipped cream
For the decadent souls among us.
And did someone ask for non-dairy creamers?
What flavor would you like?
Sweeteners alone will boggle the mind,
From real to fake, from raw to refined.

Of course, it goes without saying
Coffee is actually meant to be experienced—
Not just consumed.
And there’s no more need to confirm (as in olden times)
That the last drop is as good as the first.

As a sign of largesse, I’ve even heard said
It’s polite to leave a tad in the bottom of one’s
Heat shield protected carry out cup,
That is, unless one is a "somebody" who has
Invested in a designer mug
From one’s favorite coffee emporium.
To demonstrate one’s oneness with the earth.

By the way, I saw Black Pearl Coffee the other day—
Thought it was tea at first but it was coffee all right.
There it was, a bit exotic and aloof, if you ask me,
Just sitting right there on the counter
Next to an urn of brazen Amaretto.

It took me aback for a moment
Until I got my bearings and found my usual.
Mind you, I ain’t sayin’ what that is--

Don’t want to be labeled, you know....