The Tea Plucker Poem by Shijo Jose

The dawn engaged in soft dialogue,
Rolling hills gulfed in clandestine fog.
As the air was punctuated by tweets,
The damp earth welcomed her feet.

Dew kissed down her flowery robe,
As she waded down the leafy jade slope.
The slow breeze caught her auburn hair,
The bearings of a midsummer affair.

Bushes parted to welcome her hands,
The glade, mesmerized in trance.
Underneath her hat of jute intertwine,
Was hidden a smile, truly divine.

She soon disappeared into the quiet,
Brandishing her little cane basket.
Everyone called her the tea plucker,
And that's all they knew about her.