September 29 is National Coffee Day.
You can celebrate with jokes, with history, with various brewing techniques, or with a poem.
When I was a little pup,
Grandma would splash coffee in my cup
of milk and I would drink it up.
One of the things she’d enjoy most
was to take a piece of toast
and ‘baptize’ it in Maxwell’s roast.
As she sat there drinking
her coffee, her eyes twinkling,
God knows what she was thinking.
It was almost like a ritual,
partly habit, partly mystical,
down to earth, but also spiritual.
Now I’m old but I can see
how that kind of memory
has helped define the present me.
As I grew a little older
I liked my coffee a little bolder
and soon I left my brand of Folgers.
I’d run it through the filter twice
just to make it hot and nice,
but still the taste would not suffice.
I would grind the beans a little rough
but I just couldn’t get enough
so I tried that espresso stuff.
I knew it was probably wrong
to like my coffee super-strong
so it wasn’t very long
I began to see little critters
running around with caffeine jitters
after drinking about three liters.
One side effect from my fixation
on the pleasures of caffeination
was my favorite hallucination.
Sometimes the cup itself
would hop down from the shelf
with the legs of a tiny elf
And fill itself from the coffee pot,
nice and steaming, screaming hot,
and then it would actually trot
With style, elegance, and flair,
leaping wild without a care,
my cup runneth over to my chair!
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