*
Honey clings to a spoon
becomes alive in the tea
The cup riding my hand
like a wave on a hot beach
My fingers have memories
of heat, and a pent ache
*
Continue readingSea Glass 11/30
tea
Riddle
Stand on the lip of the world
vast ceramic ranges wing
me side to side – mountains smooth
with the snow of ancient fires
ring a bowl, slow-descending
where clouds surface from the deep
thunder’s undulate pulsing.
Absolute|Unrest 