Poem by Mary Ann Larkin

MORNING TEA AFTER THE SOLSTICE
 
The tea kettle makes its pin-prickly noises.
The rain hums a little song,
taps a slow stacatto on the pond.
I put on my lavender earrings.
The earth suffers its mysterious turn
toward darkness--
come again to the end
of its climb to light.
I slip on your big black shoes
to go pick mint for morning tea.
Rain meanders through my hair.
The crushed mint smells like God.

Mary Ann Larkin is the author of several books and other publications. She lives in Washington D.C. and North Truro, Massachusetts.

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