Afternoon tea. What sheen to the next poem?

White tea. Green is the sheen of the next poem -- at least the majority of lines. Spring is here; green competes with a host of radiant color.

Will the next poem rival the showy cardinal rhodies in the neighbor's yard? Like poems, flowers don't pay much attention to boundaries. Makes me thing of tea's relationship to water. Unfurling leaves of green and tinge of slight amber.