One Poem by Eduard Schmidt-Zorner

Morning de(light)

Escaping from awakening metropolitan bustle
I enter a café in the sleepy morning light;
behind the counter, looking at me, a tired face,
my image reflecting in the mirrors:
two faces not yet weaned from the night.

The experienced nod of the waiter,
his determined walk to the coffee machine,
he knows my preference and later
the celebration of caffeine.

A sharp sound of porcelain on the marble,
shuffling of the paper napkin and bill.
The black miniature lake in the tiny cup
smells so intense, infuses power in the early hour
where no poem has yet been born.
Voluptuously I drag out the sipping
to extend the pleasure of this strong toxin,
without sugar and milk, unfolding
a taste like desires untold.

Black it must be, strong and jungle-like.
It teaches to be tender, to hold the small handle.
Patiently I take small sips one by one.
The buttery taste of the crunchy croissant,
crackling of layers, the shape of the crescent,
the soft fall of leaves, translucent,
flaky yeast-leavened dough, crumbles to
yellow-brown shine-through petals.

The day begins.


Eduard Schmidt-Zorner is a writer of poetry, haibun, haiku and short stories in four languages: English, French, Spanish and German. He holds workshops on Japanese and Chinese style prose poetry.

Member of four writer groups in Ireland, lives in County Kerry for more than 25 years and is a proud Irish citizen, born in Germany.

Published in 69 anthologies, literary journals and broadsheets.

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