Morning Offering
The hardwood floor feels smooth beneath my bare feet.
I can hear the birds outside singing their morning song as I turn the coffee maker on. I reach into the cabinet and grab my two favorite mugs.
I take a second to breathe and release as I pour my intention into the first cup.
Whatever the day may bring,
I’ll be grounded, grateful, present.
Noticing the details no one else will.
I pour some coffee for myself, then take the first mug and place it on my built-in bookshelf—how appropriate of an altar for a writer.
Sharing coffee with the unseen,
a token of my gratitude
for the guidance they bring.
By the time the coffee cools,
the room feels less empty—
not because anything has changed,
but because I’ve remembered
I don’t begin the day alone.
3 thoughts on "Morning Offering"
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Even when we’re alone
the world is with us
“Sharing coffee with the unseen,
a token of my gratitude
for the guidance they bring”
So deliberate & lovely. I look forward to thinking back to your poem; thank you for sharing it
I love the wonder of this poem, especially:
a token of my gratitude
for the guidance they bring