A Cup of Tea
When the wind spits at us from outside our house,
when the cold hunts for us like a cat for a mouse,
there's nothing as sweet for my mother and me
as to warm our hands on a steaming cup of tea.
I come home; she looks up; "Well? How was your day?"
Let's sit down, light some candles, and by the way,
do you prefer Earl Grey or peppermint tea?"
"Um, I can't decide – either's fine with me."
Here's my own red mug with its gleaming glaze,
here's the graceful steam that mazes a misty haze
on my glasses so the only thing I see
is the glowing amber color of the tea.
We sit back and wrap our hands around the cups,
full of comfort and warmth from our toes on up
as the candles on the table dance lazily
and we drink in their light with each cup of tea.