Midden Musings

Ode to a coffee grinder

I have known you almost as long

As I have known my wife.

With minor adjustments

Some forty years complete

You don’t seem to tire or age

Or feign illness or go on retreat.

Even though you are older

You’ve kept your shape and sheen

Despite all the handling

By others just using you

No more than as a tool,

But I could never abuse you

You mean too much to lose.

We have a relationship you and I

Emotionally one-sided it has to be

With constance your redeeming quality.

Is it too much to say I love you?

Probably, as inanimate knows no feeling

And love requires response.

Your arrival in my life was serendipitous.

There you were on a shelf for sale,

Oh the vagaries of retail,

You could have gone to anyone

Then discarded years ago

But no, I suppose we were meant to be

And I have no regrets

Only admiration for your quiet dependability

And your contribution to the morning warmth and waft

There, you are placed with reverence upon the shelf

Yet, you do not stand out

Amongst the other kitchen stuff, alongside

Salt and pepper shaker, thermometers, matches and synthroid.

They do not have your skill

Without complaint you perform, a duty in high regard

Always ready at whims notice to once again perform the task.

Each morning I caress your comely shape

A pleasure to wrap my fingers around,

I crank and you grind

And oh what a lovely sound you make.

You are mechanical simplicity

Part of your charm no doubt

Responding only to hand’s caress

No noisy motors to burn out,

Two handfuls to fill you up

Two bottom slaps to clean your guts.

You’ve said little over the years

Never once complaining,

But on occasion with my thoughts elsewhere

You reminded me to close your cover before cranking.

I cannot fathom a time without you

And of course I will do all I can

To keep you sound, in good shape,

But when I die and we together are no more

I hope you will not be thrown as garbage on a heap

Your efforts on our behalf forgotten, never known,

Lost in time, replaced by something new.

Each and every day I greet you in a stupor.