Irish Coffee

January 25, 2012

My caffeinated riff on a favorite poem:
“William Butler Yeat’s Lake Isle of Innisfree”

I will arise and go now, to sip my morning coffee
And read the morning paper–sports, politics, and trade.
Nine flavors will they blend me there, of roasted araby,
Ground finely by the bean-loud blade.

I might take some tea later, when tea comes dripping slow,
Dripping Jasimine, mint, ginseng, from silver rings.
The afternoons are quiet there, sometimes even slow,
And evenings people study things.

I will arise and go now, and start my busy day,
But after hitting Starbucks, not before,
And while I’m stuck in traffic, out on the pavement grey,
I’ll savor the last drops and yearn for more.

(C) 1998 by Allen L. Johnson, Portland, Oregon

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