Strains of tea

The morning clouds fell
out of the sky onto my as yet
unformed face,
clots of anchored steam,
an emptying kettle.

So vaporised into the day,
unpacked, dropped into a mug
a usual formed drink.

A strange brew,
handled casually, drank
in semi thoughtless gulps,
as eyes adjusted to light
and familiar tastes.

No wonder tea is trapped in bags,
needs the release
to bring its qualities;

I headed out, feeling just the same.

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3 thoughts on “Strains of tea

  1. nectarfizz says:

    I can just about see the half-mast eyelids.

  2. megan says:

    A very tangible image. Well done.

  3. Matt says:

    Thanks, I was thinking how being “out and about” can so very much be the key to opening yourself up. If that makes sense.

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