The Scent Of The Grind...
The beans spill into the hopper,
As I spin the handle in and antique tradition,
The scent washes over me,
Serenity and satisfaction falling,
Ground down and landing in a brown paper bag,
Old-school air freshener,
That rich brown,
Percolator-bound brown gold.
For a few days,
I have the best-smelling garage on the planet.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/25/2017