Coffee bean, one.
Intricate. Tiny. Hold me between index and thumb.
You pried me from my cherry cloak. Slime.
Naked in the sun of my homeland.
I traveled in burlap to be there for you.
I crossed oceans for your love.
Your obsession with me.
But I do it for you.
Your goal is the first crack, when you roast me.
You break me.
But it’s the sound of all of the beans in the roaster that gets me.
Swishing. I am not alone. Have you heard?
Cyclical. Swishing.
This is where my true flavors come out.
A culmination of my terroir.
You can’t fake this.
All together.
The Maillard reaction, they call it.
That’s how I become,
Caramelized.
Now I’m ground into powder. Even smaller. Fluff.
Heated and poured into a mug.
You may have pried, cracked, roasted and ground me.
But look how they seek me.
How they worship me on the clock.
Once bitter, but if done right, art.
Now a comforting viscous tonic, coating throats.
Talk of diamonds forming under pressure, but what about me?
Coffee bean.
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One Comment
June
Outstanding. Marvelously creative. Brava!