I’m drinking a chicory coffee-substitute out of a ceramic cup, yellow handle, yellow interior and yellow chicken on a green and blue background. The chicken has a one dot back eye, a curved black line for its wing and an orange comb and beak. Two black three-pronged feet stick out like an after thought. I bought the cup on sale after Easter. I also bought a similar one with a white duck on a lilac background (two for the price of one and there was only one chicken). I felt a bit silly but the sale price helped. I like the chicken one because it reminds me of my pet hen, Roxy, that I had as a child. I need things to remind me that I was a child and the chicken cup triggers a soft spot in me.

Poems are soft spots in my life. They’re the "take time out" spots. They’re spots to drink out of my favorite cup, snuggle in my special chair, and eat some of the popcorn I just made for myself. They also have the potential to change my perspective and heaven knows what miracles can happen when I change my perspective.