Multiple muffled conversations
oscillate under a veil of sound,
rhythms and reticent murmurs weave
threads of reserve around melodies
and street noise from doors wide open.

Fitful rain falls outside on gray streets,
languid pools of procrastination
flow from table to table inside
around feet of coffeehouse patrons,
layers of lassitude cloak this day.

Luscious redolence of roasting beans
floats lightly in open entryway
hangs heavy over tables and chairs,
fingers flow slowly in final dance
over letters that lay down in lines.

Casey Mack (2011)