Ode to Coffee Shops

Thank you.
Thank you for the warmth.
The smell of coffee that overcomes you when you walk in the door.
The acoustic sound of a guitar.
The scratchy voice of the singer.

Thank you.
Thank you for the peace that allows me to explore,
The romantic world of a Nicholas Sparks novel,
The feeling of a book in my hands,
The pages between my fingers.

The old man sitting in the corner,
All by himself,
Staring out the window.
The man in the suit,
Hard at work,
Immersed in the contents of his computer.
The poet living in his own world,
Daydreaming about his lover.

We sit in the calm,
The city bustling around us,
The eye of the hurricane.
The calm of the storm.
Millions of people surround is,
Working, writing, calculating, buying.
Businessmen, construction workers, scholars.
All wander through the tree-lined streets.
Searching for their purpose.
Fulfilling their purpose.
Searching for their place in this sea of people, this jungle, this never-ending collection of skyscrapers and bright lights.
The city that never sleeps.

The arch in the park.
Musicians gather.
Dancers gather.
Performers gather.
Watchers gather.
Bars where Bob Dylan once sang.
Cafés where Poe once read.
I watch from my seat in this coffee shop, staring with open eyes.
Just one person in this huge place.
One of millions.
What's my purpose?

Thank you.
Thank you for the calm.
Thank you for the comfort.
Thank you to coffee shops.