Standing in the dark
Midnight mist tangled
In silver moonlight
Splashing across my
Pale, anxious face
Eyes searching swamp edges
Waiting for you
Smoky Souchong
Sloshing in cups
Bamboo and pine fires
Give scent the power
To evoke Russian caravans
Carrying precious tea leaves
To far-flung Florida
Eagerly sipping
The potent brew
No Shakespearean witch
Could conjure in her cauldron
On the darkest night
Caffeine calms me
And I hear years of
Piled Live Oak leaves
Crackling on compacted sand
Recognizing your step
In anticipation of the tea
With its own sensuality…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Russian Caravan tea