The Drink/Poetry

Sunday Hacienda Barau 189.NEF


The Drink

When oft we cry for lack,
  our coffers seeming scarce.
Is it for hunger that we cry,
and envy others’ shares?
When what we eat seems dull,
  displeasing to our taste,
we toss it out, begin again,
ignoring what we waste.

Drink only that which makes us numb,
forgetting is the rule of thumb.
With slur, recite our world of woes
dissect our friends, devour our foes.

Would we but turn our heads
toward the flower beds
And quietly observe
The tiny ones who serve.

Nimbly stepping over
every bloom and clover
to spread the yellow dust
the way they know they must.

They do not cry for what is gone
what will not be or tread upon.
A single step completes their task
and only one thing do they ask.

A sweet drink of tea
  from a goblet of gold.
Its legs do not lie
  for the flavor is bold!

If we such simple pleasure
  could call our greatest treasure,
to know the face of peace
  and beauty beyond measure.

No bitter pill to down
  as the sun sets on the day,
no hurry up to worry,
  making honest work the way,
to find a goblet of honey
  not expecting any money
and dine on thoughts of the day….

Cheryl KP


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