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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PoemsThese poems were recognized at the 2019 WFD Poetry Competition ArchivesPoets
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