When sun crests the horizon,
revealing trackless desert,
the world rises, cloaked
against the sands of time.
revealing trackless desert,
the world rises, cloaked
against the sands of time.
A hot draught against morning cold;
rising wisps of steam dissipate, fly,
the strength of the liquid, they belie.
rising wisps of steam dissipate, fly,
the strength of the liquid, they belie.
Surveying a path ahead,
one can sense a rising sirocco
—is it the heart’s pulse,
a force of nature,
or both, at once?
one can sense a rising sirocco
—is it the heart’s pulse,
a force of nature,
or both, at once?
Contemplating possibilities,
the magic carpet arrives;
one must now rise to the occasion
of exploring the vastness of potential.
the magic carpet arrives;
one must now rise to the occasion
of exploring the vastness of potential.
© 2013 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen
I like to add cardamom, a grating of nutmeg and the barest hint of cinnamon to my coffee. No milk.
How do you like yours?
To see the first poem of this cycle, see this link:
Tea Way
