I have been just listening,
To the quiet whisperings,
Of the tea leaves in my hand,
Taking me to other lands.

How can this be, possibly?
Listen close and you will see
Using senses, not my mind,
To create a space in time.

Seeing them, I notice first,
Baby leaves plucked at their birth.
Dried and aged before their time,
Holding flavor quite sublime.

Touching leaves so fragile still.
Being careful not to spill.
Light as air, their chemistry,
Still contains their mystery.

Hearing now the tinkling sound,
As the leaves are falling down,
In my glass infusing cup,
Laughing as they’re jumping up.

Inhaling as water steeps,
Their scent now becoming deep.
Heavenly fragrance is at hand,
Mountain meadows, foreign lands.

Tasting secrets fully bloomed,
Sweet jasmine, so like perfume,
Blessing my tongue and my nose,
I detect some English rose.

Transported momentarily
From places far across the sea,
To this time and room so known,
In this calming space alone.

We can go here any time.
You in your space; I in mine.
Taking time to simply Be,
A quiet moment with some tea.

©2010 Joanna DeRungs

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