Monday, July 18, 2016


I probably couldn't request a nicer morning,
up early,
soft sunlight hitting. 
Cold, crisp coffee. 
Words scribbled as always. 
Backpackers came in first,
rolling through town.
Looking for a hot coffee. 
Business men followed them
probably on their way to the office. 
I sat in the corner and watched silently.  
Not because of my quiet nature -
because my nature is not really quiet.  
But because I was sitting alone and it felt odd to be talking with no one next to me.
I kept writing,
because it felt like it had been a while since I sat 
and relieved 6-8 poems of pressure off whichever lobe of my brain those come from. 
I'm always more fresh and ready to write 
bright and early. 
If only,
more often,
I could get myself up. 
At night I try to write
and it comes out a jumbled,
but satisfying, mess. 
As I finished my coffee,
I was ready to leave, 
and answer to obligation instead of myself. 

Riley Welch

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