Explode in boiling water. Brew
A bitter green. I fill
My thermos in the morning
With the tea that keeps me moving
In the hours between students,
As we filled yours twelve months ago,
In a hostel kitchen - Amsterdam -
To keep us warm
While we walked the years
Between Rembrandt and Van Gogh.
The enthusiasm of these tiny leaves
Reminds me of my own, in Vondelpark,
The day before you arrived,
The first time we would meet in half a year.
You, an hour's flight from Prague,
Me, eight hours over Atlantic,
Landed one day early.
Dusk unfolded purple robes and I was glad,
Knowing I could lay down satisfied
On the threshold of your arrival,
Having come so far to see you.
The hand-rolled leaves of gunpowder tea
Explode in boiling water, blossoming
Like pebbles into flowers.