Listen to poem:
Real Tea
Real Tea
We steep it far too long,
lowering thermometers,
holding rulers to steam,
timing the swirl of leaves
in glove-warmed hands
in our cosie cuddled pots.
We revere the cup,
catalogue the aroma,
argue whether the color
means what we think it means—
what real tea ought to be.
Meanwhile,
the real tea drifts,
up and away
with the vapors
that escapes
our nostrils
inhalation!
Wandering off
beyond the grim
plain-glazed rim,
It flaunts its time
it chimes its rhyme
it grins at our
uncertainty
out of reach
of a real cuppa tea.
bit by bit,
itty-bitty—
sip by sip
slip by slip—
whiff by waft,
one leaf at a time.
away from the cup,
away from the tongue,
away from its solemnity
away from the label—
Real Tea!
It's Real?
This Tea!
It's Real Tea!
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