Selected Poems
Tea Times
It's about time.
Waiting not watching
ten minutes for a kettle to
whistle us to come quick
step from another room.
Take 5 minutes, half count
into an irregular beat to
allow tea to brew some
shade of Killarney brown,
stir cream and sweetness.
A conversation with mother
for minutes, I cannot recall.
Each day taken slowly in sips.
It was always, just about time.
