Tea (r 8)

Tea (R 8)

Climbing away to a mist beyond foliage
where leaves leave peaks alone
naked at the top
no tea leaves to read

Wandering up
lost from you, climbing
away to a mist, I had hoped
something would
move me like you did a day
looking up, window listening
to true katydids play forelegs
at tops of oak trees, when I
seemed home, as if from the kitchen
you were coming to a boil with
true approval and encouragement tea.

Mountain climbing where
leaves leave peaks, I had hoped
to let spirits of you sanctify
meanders in the cold with gracious thoughts,
those hot dreams of you that infuse the stew
I carry in my backpack, mostly filled with
drudge stuff, but your precious memorandear
was tucked into the rear pocket made for
precious notes like gems amen, something
to hold for incantations against pebbles
in the shoes and grace for stumble stones
that haunt the winding up mountain path

Broken trees below the snow line
broken hearts above
misty mountain hawks
splintered memories clawing

Blue skies and fluff at the mountain top.
In a cloud I saw your face, a
tea cup and a dove, but

I heard myself scream and
saw the grief of my breath
form wispy puffs that fly away

But those sorrows are not of you,
though you do embrace every sparrow,
and when you’d not know
the name of the bird, you’d
christen it cute and lovely like you are

Winding down
there are birds in the sky
and no stumble stones, but
only the scent of tea up my nose
the feel of a memorandear in my pocket

There is sweetness to the air
your valley is near,
could be I’ll stumble
by your house to leave a note
or ring where I learned that
fresh tea is sweet when brewed
for an occasion where eyes meet

and blinks become flutters
a stuttered word divine, because
what would be affirmed in the steep
is the scent of wafting play where
seeping things flow out into
the rivers in two cups
fragrant with cinnamon
and swirly with a word
whispered in the mists
before silence goes to bed

I’ve seen it in a memo.

Ding dong.

— Douglas Gilbert

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3 thoughts on “Tea (r 8)

  1. See? Another 10+…I love this one too. Come on over, i’ll brew you a delicious cup of tea, my Sweetness. I’ve thought of this line several times “precious notes like gems amen,” It’ll just pop into my head out of nowhere and then i’ll smile because it makes me think of you. Not sure why that line, i guess i like the ‘gems, amen’. It has a catchy sound. Oh speaking of sparrows, the flock who have been coming to my feeder have a new friend: a parakeet! It’s yellow and tealish-greenish and it seems to have joined their flock. If something spooks the flock it flies off with the rest of them. I kind of worry about it though, because I’m pretty sure that parakeets aren’t winter-weather type birds. I’ve tried to get a picture but so far I haven’t been able to get a good one. Oh and the other day I was driving down the interstate and saw a big beautiful hawk. It swooped down and I had a perfect view from my car…

    1. Hmm, thanks. That’s interesting — I think I’ll upgrade its rating. But, of course everything can’t go first.
          We’ve had a problem with escaped parrots in New York. They built nests around transformers to stay warm for the Winter. There are whole colonies of parrots that have survived through the winter, the last I heard. They haven’t been in the news lately, so I don’t know if they left them alone or rescued them or what, but there were a lot of them the last time they mentioned them in the news.

      1. Escaped parrots?! Wow, I’d love walking down the city block and seeing a colony of parrots flying around like I was in the middle of the jungle! Hmm…reminds me of that term “concrete jungle”. At least they were able to find a warm spot, sounds like they’re pretty smart. I wonder if the little parakeet will know what to do. When i was little my dad had lots of birds. He had so many that his friends even called him Bird. But we had a parrot named Baby, she was awesome…i could see her being smart enough to find heat if she needed to.

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