Reading the coffee grounds

A fine autumn day
           with a brisk breeze
and magpies
           ten of them
playing catch me if you can
           flying under and over
the garden table and chairs
           There are dandelions in the grass
and a few late blossoms
           in the bushes—
most of the berries
           have been eaten

and I’m sitting here 
          alternately
looking out of the window and staring
           into the empty depths
of my morning coffee mug
           Nothing there now
but the dried grounds
           and I try to read the pattern
traces of light appearing
           out of a dark cloud
She loves me
           she loves me not
she loves me
           I’ll know
soon enough
           that’s for sure

John Lyons

Revised text.

Found art, at the bottom of my cup!