Coffee

I was mocked for buying the number two coffee cone
Justifiably perhaps
Who needs so little coffee?

A six ounce cup is but a tease
Like pulling back a wind up car
Just until the wheels engage
It skitters forward but loops no loops

Indeed, for summer days in the field
Pulling weeds, pulling hoes
Driving trucks and agendas
The tall silver travel mug is needed
And the French press to fill it

But for today
A sweet sunny Saturday for not driving anything
My little number two cone is perfect

And my tiny cup
With a tiny cap of real whipped cream
Is just big enough to hold a low, lazy hum
That, in turn, holds me
On a day when small is not shrinking
But instead surrender

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About solveighanson

I'm a (late) thirtysomething Plant Breeding Ph.D. student, daughter / sister / auntie, vegetable fan, yogi, sometime cyclist, and enthusiastic if infrequent baker. I started this blog in the summer of 2010 to trace my recovery from a pelvic fracture sustained in a cycling accident. That healing process was truly transformative, and since then I seem to have written mostly about the transformations that have followed. And hence the title of the blog: Don't call me a butterfly, because I'm not done changing.
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