American Life in Poetry: Column 083
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
Poems of simple pleasure, poems of quiet celebration, well, they aren't anything like those poems we were asked to wrestle with in high school, our teachers insisting that we get a headlock on THE MEANING. This one by Dale Ritterbusch of Wisconsin is more my cup of tea.
Green Tea
There is this tea
I have sometimes,
Pan Long Ying Hao,
so tightly curled
it looks like tiny roots
gnarled, a greenish-gray.
When it steeps, it opens
the way you woke this morning,
stretching, your hands behind
your head, back arched,
toes pointing, a smile steeped
in ceremony, a celebration,
the reaching of your arms.
Reprinted from "Far From the Temple of Heaven," Black Moss Press, April 2006, by permission of the author. Copyright © 2005 by Dale Ritterbusch. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
1 comment:
Nice poem. I'm a green tea drinker myself. I like his imagery of the tea leaves unfolding like his lover does upon waking.
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