heated in a kettle bought online,
poured over loose leaves,
brings the scent to my nose—
there is no aesthetic
that can make this moment
more sacred than my stillness,
my attention,
my emotion,
and my will,
already do.
there is no aesthetic
that can make this moment
more sacred than my stillness,
my attention,
my emotion,
and my will,
already do.
One of my favorite tea mugs with a portion of my my currently reading pile.
Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United.


