C is for Sacred
Ode to a Coffee Bean
Of all the vices human beings have chosen to employ,
There are some that prefer coffee as their favourite to enjoy.
It does not draw in fierce pursuit, the wrath and ire of law,
It is plentiful and thus enjoyed by those both rich and poor.
It’s felicitous aroma stirs the tired and fading workers,
Although in extreme amounts it has been known to rouse berserkers.
It fits snugly in receptacles of ceramic, glass or paper,
It can be served at table or on the run, with biscuit wafer.
In its vegetative life, the bean starts humbly on a tree,
Yet a little gentle handling will soon set the flavour free.
Just a pause within an oven’s blessed heat, let it roast,
The sacred bean is transfigured, a beverage of boast.
A grinding task remains before the ceremony ends,
Fine, medium or course - on this the brewing shall depend.
Espresso pots or plungers, pans and percolators too,
The Greeks, Turks and Armenians prepare it like a stew.
Latte, ‘chino, short or long, royale or macciato,
The varieties spill out in caffeine induced staccato.
For affogato – add ice cream, for Irish – add some liquor,
And when in urgent need of it, drink espresso, ‘cause it’s quicker.
Don’t preach to me the evils of the caffeine hid within,
Or try to sell to me ‘decaf’ stuff – to drink it is a sin.
Dare not serve to me ‘instant’ - that thing they call ‘freeze dried’,
For there is a special place in hell for those that such supply.
© Michael Carroll, 2004