Another Cup

 

The Golden Rule,
swirling in my coffee cup,
amid clouds of French Vanilla
creamer, as steam gently rises
over the lip of my mug.
Bitter, but eye-opening.

Being good to be good
for the good of others;
sticking, lingering slightly
on my tongue as I sip and
swirl my morning.
A happy shiver of cheer.

A smile for the smilers,
a wave for the wavers,
a nod for the nodders,
as I greet my way through the
start of the day, optimism
twinkling in my mind.

Pondering the mixed in
Golden Rule in my coffee,
lamenting the bittersweetness of
it; just slightly so, yet enjoying it
as one would a warm hug or
hearty hand clasp.

A satisfied swallow of
a morning elixir, a breathy sigh,
and a quick lick of the lips,
a whistle wet, ready to speak with
a smile and a laugh stuck in the
corner of my mouth.

Before long, my coffee will be
empty, my doing unto others will
become crisper and edged, a weapon
to wield against the illogical ravings of
a world gone senile. A world that doesn’t
remember the taste of the Golden Rule.

And I will lament,
I will feel shame,
I will regret,
I will mourn innocence,
I will mill about in horror,
and pour another afternoon cup.