The Journey Inward

Tea
brewing
in the pot -
English breakfast -
waking my senses
with its strong aroma.
I pour it into my mug,
the one with all the dogs on it,
and hold its warmth between my two hands.
This morning ritual that soothes my soul.

This evening ritual that soothes my soul -
comforting warmth between my two hands,
in a mug covered all in dogs,
I pour it right to the rim,
and sniff the aroma,
calming my senses -
sweet chamomile -
from the pot
all brewed.
Tea

This is an etheree poem, with each line having one more syllable than the one before, then done in reverse.

Photo:  Flemington, NJ.  8.16.24 by LA