A tea poem for my mother ~

It’s National Poetry Month, as well as National Poetry Writing Month. So here’s a tea poem, for my much-missed mother ~

Sweetness on the tongue ~

I drink iced tea the way my mother did

but not as sweet, and with a little mint.

A wedge (or two) of lemon, Mother said,

would take the sweetness down to just a hint

of the three teaspoons she would ladle in.

These days I spoon wild honey from a farm

just down the road. A pale thin gold, like sun

this foggy day, the honey stirs a storm

within my glass. It thickens into cloud,

then dissipates, dissolving bit by bit.

I stir it, and say my mother’s name aloud. 

She will not taste the tea, but I drink it. 

My mother just her name, the rest undone.

Nothing remains, but sweetness on the tongue.

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