Sunlight that syncs in and out; broody skies, no birds.
We wait out the wet spell, coffee in hand, after first
asking the dark-haired barista for the wireless password.
Sunlight that syncs in and out; broody skies, no birds.
Nearby, a teen plugged into his earphones Skypes words
of mixed English, Italian. Steam and chatter: our cursives.
Sunlight that syncs in and out; broody skies, no birds.
We wait out the wet spell, coffee in hand; not a first.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES