An Ode to Tea
An original poem by Amy
I hear the water boil in the kettle.
I pour it into my mug, the one I pick depending on my mood.
Blue just for fun
“Luke’s Diner” when I want to talk fast
Hedwig the owl when I’m feeling magical, or need a magical kick.
Honey as a sweetener.
Loose leaf in a steeper.
With milk or without? Chia or herbal? Rooibos or Earl Grey?
Steam rises from the mug.
The distinct sweet smell of nature that is common in all teas flows throughout the kitchen.