Morning Coffee

The morning was cold and raw, fog clings to the ground.
I gazed, searching for the signs of  the morning light.
In the stillness, the cup almost burning my hand.
My thoughts wander in the swirl of the rising steam.
Nothing in particular, what will the day bring?
What lies ahead? What will happen today, if only,
A long, slow sip, savoring, this coffee is good.

David Gray