HEARING BACH

Waking up
Sunday morning
hearing Bach's
"Coffee Cantata"
while partaking
from a bone China cup myself,
imagining I'm in Liepsig
thinking of all lyrical,
musical kegs of wealth
you have given me
drinking in
all the  bubbled hidden dregs,
extending the olive branch
reaching out from the table
with candid fabled quotes
of forbidden griefs
played under these piano legs
in miracle quarter notes
and made to beg and barter
from my boastful beliefs
to have been reviled
and defiled,
knowing the charter  of life
and language of the exiled
now reconciled
to the Lord's loving relief
once sown as wild oats
returning back to you,
yearning in repentance
as if a poet needs to atone
as children abandoned by sleep
in a deposited deep slumber
from a yawning metamorphosis
when in my kitchen
pantry's closet
making toast, cheese
eggs ,sausage and coffee
this dawn of a raw December.