thoughtful morning service

coffee service dressed
lunchbox at the ready
oatmeal relaxing in their bowls
the morning waits for our arrival
set up thoughtfully the night before
each object bearing the stamp
of love in each aspect
of its relationship to us
and to the other objects
the mood strikes
not like a hammer hard and fast
but like sinking into a giant down comforter
neverending softness wrapped around you
and i pour whistling water from the kettle
into the press which squeezes nectar
a love potion, i carry off to the salt mines
in pursuit of my fortune, all the while
dreaming of her lips
pressed hungrily against mine