Black coffee before the yellow sun arises,
muddying my view with its variant colors.
Even with the yellow sun almost in my eye
I am defiant and glance toward the darker sky.
Black coffee allows a truer reality of the day
without wind tossing about nets of stray colors.
Oh, I love the ritual of the rising of the sun
but I am myself more totally without such swirls.
Let suns control their worlds;
so far they do not control me.
I drink black coffee.
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