Tallasaia
The sea,
salt-sprayed,
drives on rocky shores,
birthing clouds of mist;
the breeze, newly bold,
mildly cool,
is not unfriendly;
it is more curious
than piercing,
a question-asking breeze.
And I
am wandering,
shells and rocks around me
on the shores of Tallasaia.
Black Tea
Black the mug and dark the tea
like inner depth of brew-dark sea,
with silence deeper than that in me,
I catch warm scent like honeyed leaves
as steam is caught and interweaves
the air and, weaving like graceful bee,
repairs the world inside of me.
