last dip of the tea ball
the steam-snake strikes my face
the smell of morning promises
afternoon disappointments
gazing in the dark water
sighs and chuckles
swim to the surface
then disappear in the depths
one memory sweetens one sip
a call from an old friend
and I replay it with another
long cautious swallow
so nice to hold time in
the crook of a finger
and a moment on
the back of your tongue