Coffee

It's one of the most perfect words in the English language. 

It conjures up images of Arabia, and Hawaii, plantations in greens and browns. 

It swirls in the cup, a hot bit of the tropics in your hand. And the aroma's like richness and the best parts of adulthood – you know, the independence parts, not the responsibility parts. 

The sounds it evokes are of rain falling on wide palm fronds, as the drip maker slowly reveals its goodness. 

Then there's the taste, of all-nighters and intellectual conversations. 

Kathy?  

I hear my name as I contemplate my morning cup of coffee.