Today's poem is by Joel Ferdon

Aubade With the Smell of Roasting Coffee On the Air In My Backyard
       

I drink from stone & revel in the magic of days—
high rain and no floods. On my piece of land
that is so small, the smell of roasting beans is tied
to the sight of early morning over pre-fall pines.
I don't know that I will always live in this
house or remember these memories. All I can say
is that when I breathe in deep and find
those sweet tones on the air— overcooked chocolate,
a dash of cardamom, and a smell of cinnamon
that would be the only thing to make me miss
California— I know that I am home even if
I am far from home, have forgotten home,
or have wandered into the mountains searching
for open flame and the cup to be passed my way.

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Copyright © 2024 Joel Ferdon All rights reserved
from The Arsonist's Son
Louisiana Literature Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission