ZW13 – Third Place

Robyne Young

Parrot screeches vie for space
with morning traffic sounds.

The day’s news drifts in and
pushes deep the scraps of dreams
that join the growing mound
of remnant thoughts
from which no sense is made.

A click unlids the tin of coffee beans.
They clatter, are ground
then softly tamped.
The stream of black flows into a favourite cup.
Inhale deep –
then sip and let the medicine hit
and dilute
the babble of the morning.



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