I didn’t stop what I was doing
to enjoy the exotic red fruity notes,
didn’t pause my busy mind
to cherish the bold dark leaves.
That’s not to say I didn’t love drinking the tea.
I did. Every velvety sip.
And as I pulled the final muslin sachet
from the classic black box lined with gold foil,
I thought of the woman
who had bought me such extravagant tea
and I fell even more deeply in love with her.
I tell myself it’s not wrong
I divided my attention
between the delicate tea
and the generous sun
and the work that I love.
I tell myself they spoke to each other
in the most beautiful morning voices—
all of them conspiring
the way a violin and cello and piano conspire,
the way a poet and a pianist and an artist conspire,
the way strawberry and cocoa
and dark leaves conspire
to create something more from the moment—
an alchemy that only comes when we say yes
in the moment to everything.
Now, when I read those words I wrote,
I taste in them Tibetan flowers.
They wear the fragrance of sunshine,
the bouquet of exotic lands.
Now when I see the empty drawer
where the tea is not,
I dream of how I drank the last cup
as if it would last forever.
Posts Tagged ‘tea’
On Drinking the Last Cup of Mariage Frères Marco Polo Tea
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged collaboration, friendship, mindfulness, presence, tea on January 24, 2023| 12 Comments »
Adjusting to the Change
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dark, grief, serving, tea, waking on November 12, 2021| 8 Comments »
Just today I didn’t make you
a cup of chai—did not stir
in the dark clover honey,
did not warm the soy milk,
did not bring you the cup
with red flowers, the one
we got in Finland all those
years ago when we couldn’t
sleep with all that light—
instead I pour myself
into the black of morning.
There is sweetness here
in these quiet, predawn hours,
a vastness no cup could ever contain.
I want to serve it to you,
though I sense, love,
it is you serving it to me.
Earl Gray
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, entropy, mess, tea on January 24, 2021| 2 Comments »
Today the lesson is in the little black leaves
floating freely in the tea, loosened
from their bag. How quickly things come apart—
things I wish would stay intact.
And yet I drink from the dark cup
and find joy in the bold, citrusy warmth.
Though it’s messy, though the bits catch
in my teeth and tickle in my throat,
though it isn’t what I would have wanted,
neither has it ruined the pleasure of bergamot,
the sharpness of lemon, the flavor
of acceptance, of morning.
Join Me?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communion, love, sky, tea on October 16, 2020| Leave a Comment »
Nimbu
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Nimbu, Paula Lepp, pleasure, tea on October 7, 2020| Leave a Comment »
with thanks to Paula Lepp for the introduction
This morning the Nimbu tea
reminds me there is so much goodness
yet to discover. Three days ago
I’d never heard of Nimbu, Nimbu,
much less tasted the bright citrus shine,
the full and sweet caramel body.
Now I can’t imagine a morning
without it warm and round on my tongue.
Nimbu. Nimbu. Just saying the name
makes me smile. Just a sip makes
me think of all the pleasures yet to come,
pleasures I don’t even know how to name,
pleasures just waiting to be found.
Tonight I Want to Hold You
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged holding, sun, tea on May 15, 2020| 2 Comments »
the way the hand holds the mug,
the way the mug holds the tea,
the way the tea holds the leaves,
the way the leaves hold the sun,
the way the sun holds everything
the way everything eventually
lets go.
Wishing I Were Stronger in the Face of Grief
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged courage, mint, strength, tea on April 7, 2020| 4 Comments »
Tonight, courage is the voice
of the mint tea as it lends its strength,
its green to the water.
It’s no small thing
to infuse something else
with warmth, with sweetness.
All day, I’ve wanted to be bolder.
All day, I’ve felt unsure
of what comes next.
The mint says yes, says drink,
says rest. Says, a small kick
can do a lot. The mint says,
one way to get stronger
is patience. It soothes me,
it helps me to sit
and feel what I feel
this smooth tea—
subtle, strong enough.
Drinking Assam Tea
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hands, labor, poem, poetry, tea on November 20, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Malty, bright and voluptuous,
the tea meets me this morning,
and though I’m alone, the kitchen
is filled with other hands—the
potter’s, for instance, that threw
and trimmed and pulled and glazed
this favorite mug into mugness.
And the hands of the harvesters
in India who gathered the fresh green leaves
of the second flush, then
spread them on a tray and left them
to dry in the sun. And who rolled the leaves?
And who gathered them after they aged?
I wrap both hands around the mug
and inhale the musky scent of tea
and marvel at how much humanity
went into this simple cup. I stare
at my knuckles, my fingers, my palms.
It’s your turn, I tell them.
Serve the world well. Can you make something
so bold, so strong?
What We Can Do
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged help, helplessness, love, mother, poem, poetry, step mother, tea on May 22, 2019| 2 Comments »
Because I can’t make things better,
I offer you tea. I am grateful when you accept.
The night holds us both
as we sit in the kitchen,
your voice a small boat
in an ocean of ache.
Because I can’t fix the problems,
I cover you with a blanket
when I see you are shivering,
though I know your shudders
have little to do with cold.
Still, it feels good when you pull
the white throw around you,
as if for the moment you’re protected.
I think of the Queen of Sheba,
how she learned to be grateful
for falling. How, in the dark,
she found her own light within,
then rose up and shared
this pearl with the world.
Because you are hurting,
I listen to you, would listen
all night, would listen all week.
I offer my whole attention.
And as you find in yourself
the light that is there,
I marvel as you marvel
at your own wisdom, your
own strength.
I listen. I nod.
I pour you tea.