Sitting still as a bee,
Drinking delicious cold tea.
A sunny day rains and shines,
Making sure freedom is mine.
The bird sings a broken heart,
Spring comes like a dying art.
Tea #1
A cup of tea in my hands
Water green, black, brown or red
Muddy or pure, life sits in my hands
A mindful sip, how lightly I tread
Eagle rising
Morning tea above the misty sea;
Over the mountains, the sky is free;
Soaring high, what can you see?
Tiny speckles, an ant on a tree.
On being bold
It’s wet, it’s cold.
May I be so bold,
As to invite thee,
For a cup of tea?