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The Gathering, by Britta Benson

Photo by Breakingpic on

The size of my tea cupboard is ridiculous. I mean, hey, how many different teas does one woman need? Turns out, quite a few. There’s a lot going on in my tea cupboard. So much so, that I wrote a poem about this gathering of leaves. Just a wee silly one. Here goes:

The Gathering

A whole cupboard full of tea!

Leaves of the world, assembled,

some decidedly civilized,

bagged and boxed in fancy frocks,

sealed and labelled,

the writing exquisite.

Others unashamedly loose,

rattling free spirits,

watch out!

Half a garden,

picked, dried, packaged,

second flush Assam Mangalam

living right next to common as muck chamomile.

There is justice, nettles, bliss,

a motley crew of herbal remedies,

along with forgotten, slightly scuffed metal tins

of much settled dust,

travelling deep and deeper

into the darkest corners of shame,

perpetual wallflowers,

pushed hard against the back wall,

where all fragrance dies.

See the three packets in the front row?



They’ve got it sussed.

Don’t be shy.

Make eye contact.

Get infused.


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