a year ago, this room
was filled with reclaimed
lumber and pregnant dreams;
now I sit in my spot,
trying to give birth to
new ideas as though
I have always come here.
the path from then
to now is not mapped,
but discovered — looking
back into the woods
of hope and friendship,
of late nights and failures,
of sweat and smiles and stories
in which we live and
draw our circles — the paths
that keep coming back
to this clearing,
this prayerbook of a coffee shop,
where they call our names
when all is ready.
Peace,
Milton
Good year indeed
Sitting, waiting for breakfast to come out of the oven, but feeling like I was just fed and nourished again by your pen, paper and heart. Thank you, Milton!
I can almost smell the coffee as I read. I loved my two trips to Cocoa Cinnamon and hope to make another trek back : )
“the path from then
to now is not mapped,
but discovered” is a great line, Milton, affirming that revelation is in memory, I’d say.