Tea

 

When did I learn to make the tea ?

I do not remember.

Was it at my Nana's knee;

The fragrance of her

Lily of the valley,

Coconut mushrooms,

Perhaps a touch of vinegar

pervading her pinny as I watch

her pour the water on the penny worth

of leaves

into the brown pot with two stripes,

Take it to the table

Where the glass sugar bowl sat 

All day waiting.

Who taught me to warm the pot ?

How long to brew it ?

It's as if I already knew it

Straight from the heart,

I have a separate pot for Earl Grey,

You may say I'm a stickler,

But it's good to separate things that way,

And transgressions in the making

of tea,

Seriously bother me.

You can come as you are,

How you look is unimportant,

I'll pour your tea as you like it,

Even take it weak with you,

Or stretch it out to 

A let it stand.  

I might hand you a plate

with biscuits or cake,

The outline of the ritual

Has been delineated by tea,

What we talk about 

Is neither here 

Nor there,

We could sit in companionable silence

If we prefer.

                                                                 🍃🍂