I arrived late to the coffee party, having been a tea drinker. Up until my conversion, there was nothing that compared to a mug full of strong tea served English style – with cream and sugar. (Yes, I know the English take their “cuppa” in a China cup…)
That was B.C. Before Coffee.
Both of my parents drank coffee. My Dad, one cup in the morning. My Mom drank it by the potful. (Five o’clock coffee – I wonder if she bought it solely because of it’s name?) After trying hers, I never understood how she could drink it at all, so I chose to stick with my tea.
It wasn’t until a few years after I moved to Austin in ’78, that a friend took me to Anderson Coffee Roasters for fresh beans, and I saw the light!
So today, in honor of a good cup of joe, I’ve
taken some lib bastardized Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43.
No, it isn’t the one where you walk through the valley of death, although it can feel like it until that very first sip.
Oh coffee, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the level of each morn’s most urgent need.
I love thee freely, as thou art created anew each day.
I love thee purely, and sing thou my praises.
I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints.
I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life!
But I love thee only as long as thou remain stout and steaming…
Until tomorrow morning,