ENOUGH

This coffee’s close to perfect.

None of the bitterness
sometimes confused with strength
Such densely pleasurable savor
comes with knowing —
Enough beans ground fine,
drenched by
enough steaming water.
Enough milk to satisfy the tongue’s
desire for fatness.
Enough honey
to remind that sometimes
life is sweet.

The cat’s curled beside me
on the couch
this autumnal morning,
close enough for the comfort
of my body’s warmth.

The jealous dog has stretched her bulk
between couch and coffee table,
head at my feet, near enough
to be content.

On the other side of the window,
hummingbirds up early
zoom the feeder,
sip
with their impossible tongues
enough fuel
for the next leg
of the long journey

A thousand miles away
where it is still night,
on the other side
of the continental spine,
our grandchild lies snug
beneath his mother’s whooshing heart.

Any day now
the narrow way,
the mysterious migration,
the waiting hands,
the initial inspiration,
the primal separation –

Nine month’s home,
that place of water, blood and bone
and inexplicable gestation,
no longer large enough
to hold this life.