Poetry

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CEREMONIAL TEA

I am uneducated in the ways of these thoughts
And you are like free floating clouds in a summer sky
Changing with every shift of your suitors call

Raised in the tradition of serving and pleasing
You kneel silently on your bamboo floor
Preparing ceremonial tea to set the mood

As I watch you let down your silken black hair
The fluttering of your dress reveals your knees
I try not to look with the evening breeze.

I no longer sleep because of the blazing full moon
Though I sometimes hear you call my name
I answer “Yes” to the cold dark night air.

By Rick McGrath, Ph.D.

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