scent
of oregano
pu-erh tea tree
flowers
and thyme
on my fingertips
This entry was posted on March 25, 2007 at 5:30 pm and is filed under Poems . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed
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March 26, 2007 at 6:11 am
Open the jar;
smell the tea
as it simmers
in deep time.
White flowers fall;
green leaves climb
past my tongue,
into the sun.
Steam chases thought;
the kettle crackles
with cupidinous heat,
chafing to pour.
March 27, 2007 at 4:02 am
I love this poem…!