Praise Be

Stepping outside I stop myself from clenching, from hunching, from shrinking from the cold.

Standing more upright, I notice the pale grey of sky

beyond the grating whirr of a rubbish truck and the man in a black jacket walking briskly with a cup of coffee

and I remember how big and full and overflowing the moon looked

first thing this morning when I stepped outside.

Praise be for cups of coffee.