Suddenly Tea is Solace and Story
I sat outside every day for a year. Most days, I brought nothing with me but a cup of tea. The tea was a way to measure my time. It was something to sort of do, while I sat and watched the trees.
Though I carried my drink to the same spot each day, I didn't know green tea from red from black, except in obvious ways. Imagine. For a whole year I ignored what was in my hands.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with that. I was there to enjoy the breeze, the zebra wasps, the crimson helicopter insects. I hadn't yet thought of considering my tea.
Really, it was not just the year outdoors that I ignored what was in my hands. Tea has been my companion for a good long while. My mother gave me the ritual of tea when I was a child, and I have carried it into adulthood.
But suddenly I am looking at this drink I hold daily, this companion I have steeped from bags and loose leaves, in pots and cups. I am reading about the history of tea, its chemical properties, its rich cultural and literary connections. I am even writing poetry (and next week you'll see a new story with tea at its heart).
Where will my new attention to tea take me? I suspect that doesn't matter. For now, it is taking me right here, to my own cup and the stories it holds.
Solace is me, opening
pages, white leaves that whisper
the secrets, the stories of tea.
This post is offered as part of One Shot Wednesday and HighCallingBlogs' Random Acts of Poetry.
Creme Earl Grey Tea photo by L.L. Barkat.