Morning Coffee

“When I reach the top he has quit sawing. Standing in a litter of chips, he is fitting two of the boards together. Between the shadow spaces they are yellow as gold, like soft gold, bearing on their flanks in smooth undulations the marks of the adze blade: a good carpenter, Cash is.”-Faulkner, William (2011-05-18). As I Lay Dying (Vintage International)

In the darkness of this early morning, the smell of coffee brewing along with the breeze coming from the bay. I grab a cup of the hot, bitter brew; turn to lean with my back against the deck and drop in an ice cube.

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