in the morning

every morning you see them,
a gaggle of strangers
who have become
coffee house friends.
they've pulled
tables
and chairs together to
talk and drink coffee.
the old guy
with the pony tail.
the woman knitting.
the big guy wearing
a hipster hat.
the pregnant woman
with big blonde hair.
a skinny guy with
jimmy on his yellow
member's only jacket.
and the quiet man
with his arms folded
across his chest.
there is no place
they'd rather be than
here with each other
at eight o'clock
in the morning.
it's a lively
conversation.
and as you stand in
line and listen with
one ear, it makes
you strangely happy.
they are birds
of different feathers
that have flocked
together.