This is my first post in a series called Words for Wednesday. I'll share some of my favorite words...sometimes about tea, sometimes not, sometimes my own, often not.
~Sharon Elizabeth Wood, 1997
At four o’clock, the day becomes liquid
casting a Darjeeling shadow on itself.
This is the time between,
an hour without destiny.
I must be careful
not to disturb the scent of oranges
that rests on the mist,
nor to veer off the steamy path
as I raise the china lip
to meet my own.
We are both survivors of fate,
this old cup and I,
adrift in the fortune of tea leaves.
Now we are held by tales’ embrace,
floating on vapors and shadows,
silhouetted by the ebbing day
as it sets over the oranges.
There is just enough light
for remembrance and forgetting,
the taste of cress, the touch of lace,
powdery scones lifted to powdery faces,
moments past now beginning.
This is a time of peace, a time of grace.