Grandma Poet

My boyfriend brought me home coffee from Seattle. Colombia El Jordan from Stumptown Coffee. A little brown bag with a tongue card you can pull in and out of its skin. You  have to drink the WHOLE cup he said to me. You have to. This little bag of coffee cost $13.75 and I tend to only drink half, let it sit and get cold. The flavor – the little card says: warm aromatics of nutmeg and cinnamon (that) segue into mouth-watering flavors of satsuma orange and ripe blackberry which finish with notes of honey and brown sugar.

Sounds a lot like wine. How much can be packed into such a little bean? But I will drink carefully, with  my whole tongue. He’s right – it’s time I finish the things I make.

I dreamt of an old woman poet. She knew my name, but not my face. When I introduced myself to her she lit up, took my hand, hers was warm. She said she loved my poems, she saw great things in them, but that I wasn’t being open enough.

I wasn’t sure what she meant. Not open enough? c’mon lady! Perhaps not honest enough? I don’t know. I wasn’t sure how I could get underneath the next layer and of course she didn’t explain.

I’ve had dreams of old women before – prophets in a way. They seem to guide me to and through. They give me questions and no answers, they force me to find them myself, which of course is the only way.

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4 Responses to Grandma Poet

  1. LtotheJ says:

    I like this. A lot.

  2. Sounds like coffee of the gods. I put too much energy into fretting over things unfinished (or not yet begun). If I can remember just to sit and drink the coffee, savor it, let my mind be where I am and not where it thinks I should be, why, happiness may have moved a bit closer. We never know when the lessons will come.

    • rachvb says:

      My favorite part of the day is the mornings when i get up to write. I may be beyond tired, just out of a dream, but to come down and curl up in my couch with blankets and coffee – coffee is very important even if I don’t drink it all. it’s warm and warms my insides a little. But it’s magical to have the world still dark and only you and whatever world you create that day.
      I waste so much energy is what’s unfinished. It’s hard to just be sometimes. But some times we need just that.
      I get another cup tomorrow.

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