A Large Effort for a Cup of Tea
Jeff Van Booven
The storm comes, turning the streets,
into miniature Missouris, muddy torrents
that overflow their banks and flood
the empty sidewalks.
The tea leaves bubble up and down
as the water boils and toils
to get the last bit of flavour
before the leaves settle like silt.
I tie a rope around the bumper and strap on
my waterskies and wave to the man
who swings about the lamp post
and breaks out in song as I move along.
And here, in this empty parking lot
I finally found myself and who
I truly am; moving about this storm
while others hide and cower
and wait for the sun to come out
so they can face their biggest,
most exciting challenge, to avoid
stepping in a puddle
where they can't see the bottom;
whereas myself, I enjoy
the tantalizing smell of the steeping
future cup of Earl Grey
|
|
|
