The morning coffee
Is brewed
Black. Strong. Hot  

A pot waits for me
After visiting
The islands in my sleep,  

After the sweet smells
Of salt and pepper,
Perfumes of trade winds,  

Have cleared my head
And daylight sweeps
Away visions caught in cobwebs,  

Like the quills of this pen
Releasing words and rhythms
Sore feet in soft slippers  

To walk the distance
To the newness of the day,
Tongue catching dew  

Like tiny drops of honey
Hidden in the silky web
Until revealed by the sun.  

It is like the first mouthful
Of water after the desert
Salt and sand washed away.  

So I say goodbye
To all of you for
This poetry month of June.