Green Tea
There is this tea
I have sometimes,
Pan Long Ying Hao,
so tightly curled
it looks like tiny roots
gnarled, a greenish-gray.
When it steeps, it opens
the way you woke this morning,
stretching, your hands behind
your head, back arched,
toes pointing, a smile steeped
in ceremony, a celebration,
the reaching of your arms.
Reprinted from Far From the Temple of Heaven, Black Moss Press, April 2006, by permission of the author. Copyright © 2005 by Dale Ritterbusch.
Source:
Far From the Temple of Heaven
(Black Moss Press, 2006)