Saturday’s ritual is discourse at diners,
when we talk while walking
to our regular hangout, The Green Kitchen.
As we wipe our feet on the mat on the floor,
we exit a pressure cooker, of sorts,
as worries are left at the door.
The mornings here mean so much more
than French Toast, eggs, home fries.
Forgetting brimming calendars,
we find a space of solace
where it’s just you and me,
fresh silverware, an easy cup of coffee.
Now protected within parameters
of peace, the havoc halts.
Relaxed, we breathe, and talk, and laugh.