Thursday, October 31, 2013

When I consider tea, I think of poetry. Why?

Why indeed!
Something about the unfurling of leaves.  The unfolding of a line
& its break.

1 comment:

  1. H/c

    Old light, how it lingers
    one star going quickly
    tells her to hurry home
    the time is changing

    With dawn arrives a breakthrough
    those dreams no one else understands
    The light that leaps over all ages
    The light that burns the demons away