The Kindest Cup

for heaven cup oolong glazed pot

We sat there,
The only sounds,
The hiss of the kettle,
The crack and moan,
Of an old wooden house,
The push and pull of our breath.

He smiled,
A gap in the clouds,
On a January afternoon.

I made the tea shop my temple, he said,
The merchant became my seer,
The tea sages my saints.

I made the tea table my altar,
The tea bowl my chalice,
The kettle my font.

See!
The leaves have written my catechism,
Defined my sacrament.

I found heaven at the bottom of a teacup.

I finished my cup,
Then waited, patiently,
For more.

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