The Tea Ceremony

We finish the day with a sacred libation

Gathered together in the warm glow of the kitchen light

We share a pot of tea

The air between us is thick with ritual, tradition and family ties

The tea we drink comes from up the hill

A tea farm where my mother worked as a young girl

She would sit with other women at a wooden table,

hand sort tea and gossip

The night is silent

the roosters and cows long gone to bed

Our quiet talk rises and falls like the green hills that surround us

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