Living Proof in a Dead Tea
The oblong basket with brittle bands of veneer
in shades of sandy brown,
perched atop her antique refrigerator,
looked like the bottom of Noah’s Ark; our long, long ago love affair.
It cradled, warm conversations yet to be and her herbal tea,
nearly two-by-two and so many more that any space left,
on the fridge, or in the mind’s eye lies more
un-opened chats and cellophane-sealed boxes
for a connoisseur’s careful rotations.
When she takes the basket down
it’s a perfect orchestration;
“I’ll fix us some tea”. Or, “would you like a cup of me, honey?”
Then, I wanted to be the honey-dipped spoon.
I remember stirring in her warm, vowel-consonant songs,
slipping on her teasing tongue.
Her oblong eyes still swim in soothing shades of brown.
Her lips still perfectly arched like the basket weaver’s tale.
She too was: Tension Tamer, Joint Comfort, Delicate, Sweet, Spicy,
Fragrant, Earthy, Smooth, Organic, Egyptian, Green,
Black, Gray, Vanilla, Mango, Hibiscus, Eucalyptus,
Mint, Echinacea, Chamomile, Detox,
Honey Comfort, Caffeine Free and
“yes, I’ll have a cup of Breathe Easy”;
living proof, you took my breath away
like every good sip had, it doesn’t stay on the tongue.
Photo and Poem, © Reneé Marie, 14 OCT 2015
(Yogi Tea message; “Your soul is your highest self”