A Mug Of Tea (After Osho) Poem by Clifford Hall

</>You made me tea
In the earthenware mug
Of my life, with its little chips
Recalling broken moments
Of error and nonsense.
Darjeeling mug-wise.
A gift releasing love
In fragments too, sipping
Its warm innocence and the
Silence of its music;
Open, like the curling
Lips of its glazed mouth,
To whisperings -
As the bird song snatch
At hurricane's end
From torrents' blanket wetness
To signal all is well -
Steaming away the smothering
Of my mind
Till stillness comes
In the vapoured freedom
Of myself