Coffee In the Hills

The sky

Is dark

As the bike rumbles

Along

The beaten path

Stopping still

Dust clouds up

And a metal canister

Is removed

From the leather

Side bag

It’s clutched

In frigid hands

A heat

A heart

On this lonely road

Opened

The steam wafts up

Inhaled

Into the throat

Soon covered

By the warm home

Of coffee

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