Thursday, May 5, 2011

The Captain and I

The right cup of Earl Grey
oily with bergamot
tannin with Ceylon histories
swirls with overcast afternoons
in my Grandma's dining room
near the kitchen
where she dried her herbs

Outside: the acorns
and little Spruce cones
fell among her potato patches
waiting to be collected and jarred
to be stored in the root cellar
pirate treasure
building below the black-currant hedges

The same cup of Earl Grey
pitches and yaws
on the ocean
sliding like a drunken sailor
across the mess table
of my father's trawler
next to the oil-stove that's always hot

Outside: gear is spooling
flashers are spinning
tunes are whistling
but here inside
for a moment now
my cup of Earl Grey and I
stay and steep awhile.


Angie Pants said...

This seems a step out of what you would normally write, but I really like it. It's got a very sun-shiny-lazy-afternoon feel to it. Nicely written.

SandyCarlson said...

I like the way you look at time in this.