Snowflakes fall, turning the land鈥檚 dark espresso
white. Here the barista
knows your name, your chosen milk.
In nooks that serve up nothing to do
people cup their warm mugs like amulets,
their faces declaring
my cares haven鈥檛 followed me.
Winter sun on wooden tables.
The sound of steam serenading the froth.
If the smell of coffee has a name,
call it sanctuary call it
the world out there
will wait until you鈥檙e ready.
Bio:
Ken Victor is a long-time contributor to Queen鈥檚 Quarterly whose poem 鈥On the Coldest Night in Quebec鈥 (QQ 109/4) received a National Magazine Award. His collection of poetry We Were Like Everyone Else was published in 2019 by Cormorant Books.