Tea

I’m your bold Scottish breakfast

To be appreciated in bed at 4

Depth of milk quenches hungered thirst

While insatiable poetry from marked lips pour

 

Rolling hills lay ripe, undiscovered

Under striking antlered mosses

Stripped down to bare vulnerabilities

No more bearing the luggage of heavy crosses

 

Infuse my leaves with robust sensory

While tasting rain from the growing season

With rare alignment of perfect conditions

Sipping from my full-bodied gardens of eden

 

~m