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minnesota writing project
center for writing
mwp.umn.edu
center for writing
mwp.umn.edu
Lisa Monson
©2013
The Coffee Shop
They all were rhythm in the moment.
The people came and went along;
It was a day just like the others.
The girl who worked so hard,
With short, black hair and low cut jeans
Had just begun to clear off tables
With the clanking, empty mugs,
And the rhythm didn’t stop.
Clanks were rhythm in the moment.
The child ate a fresh croissant;
He tore off pieces for his mother,
While the lady with a hairclip
Took some time to fix her glasses.
Now the line of people grew,
And they stepped in balanced movement,
And the rhythm didn’t stop.
Steps were rhythm in the moment.
The business guy, with wire glasses
Got his iPad out and ready
And the cashier tried to rip receipts,
As change would slide out on the side.
The man, whose old jeans touched the floor
Was humming as he waited,
And the rhythm didn’t stop.
Hums were rhythm in the moment.
The lady in a blue, wool scarf,
Disheveled hair that didn’t bother
Had her heels pointing downward
And they dug into the floor.
Piercing whirs from coffee grinders
Made the new, fresh, wafting brew,
And the rhythm didn’t stop.
Whirs were rhythm in the moment.
While the girl who worked so hard
Was carrying more dishes,
And the clanking of the plates and cups
Signified an armful.
Yet the people all ignored her,
And they didn’t see each other.
But the rhythm didn’t stop.
They all were rhythm in the moment.
The Journey
Click on the image to go to Lisa's digital story, The Journey.
