Sunday, August 25, 2013

Morning Tea



Morning Tea
English Breakfast,
in a clear glass.
Deep brown reflections
of the early morning haze.
Crisp sweetness hangs in the air,
bitter beverage cutting through the sweet
smooth inhale.
Dog licking at my toes
I struggle not to giggle
and push him aside.
The tea is cooling;
heat being lost to the chilled outdoors.
Faint wisps of steam rising,
dissipating quickly.
Wave of warmth reaches my face;
carried by Apollo’s awakening.
Waiting for the mid-day high
noon for Sunday brunch.

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