Just after sundown
 
I retire to the terrace
 
with a cup of tea.

 
 
 

Chilly spring morning—
 
I seek the solace of tea
 
in a plain white cup.

 

 
 
 

Cup of bitter tea—
 
I drink it upon waking
 
as my morning prayer.

 
 
 

Instead of coffee,
 
I sip water from a cup
 
as I watch for dawn.

 
 
 

In one cup of tea
 
I taste the whole world’s goodness—
 
winter slips away.

 
 
 

reshaping the clay
 
to make a cup for her tea—
 
potter at the wheel

 
 
 

In a cup of tea
 
I savor the world’s goodness—
 
autumn afternoon.

 
 
 

before starting out
 
on the longest of journeys
 
one more cup of tea

 
 
 

Just in time for tea,
 
a housefly lands on the rim
 
of my steaming cup.

 
 
 

The tea in my cup
 
still bears the stains of the hands
 
that harvested it.