Tea House

I always know When Jess is running the Tea House

I can tell from the temple bells ringing

The throat singing

Inviting us into the room

The candles lit beneath

Carved wooden sculptures

Good people made immortal

Forever holding up their hands

In some holy gesture of understanding

When Jess brews tea

Her hand rests on the vessel

As through the leaves

Whisper into her palm,

“We're ready now”

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