• stellar2 5w

    The painted sandpiper

    Residue of brown foam
    hugs the sides,
    waves lapping at the image
    of a seaside hut.
    On the outside, the painted sandpiper
    its orange beak raised as if to call,
    surveys my desk:

    “Your special morning treat is over,
    time for your walk,
    do not shirk, prevaricate,
    take me to the kitchen and,
    soak the cup before the stains
    take hold, as your inertia will;
    go, before your indecision decides
    to put your hunger before the
    beauty of a daily walk.”

    I swivel the coffee cup and
    inside it see forms of wayside plants
    that should summon me,
    dregs that speak more eloquently
    than reluctance.
    Painted sandpiper,
    morning companion,
    thank you.