Lake Village Cafe

The Lake Village Cafe
stands alone in the pre-dawn coolness.
My tires crunch on the gravel parking lot
as I find my usual space beside the dumpster.

Fresh baked goods in glass pagodas
sit atop the pristine counter.
The waitress dons her apron as the first
of many cowboy philosophers arrive.
Her smile as warm as the thick white plates
she balances in the curve of her wrist.

I observe and learn as she orchestrates
conversations while delivering food and
encouragement in equal portions.
As the sun breaks across the lake's surface
I slide my tuition beneath the water glass.
A grateful smile crosses my face
as I leave the cafe.