Tea Party

graffitied clouds
whither from a night sky,
his shadow emerges with
the orange moon.

his written words awaken
an underdressed tree spirit,
she steels the letters from
the crumbled clouds, and
plant them beneath her
roots.

he shares a cup of smooth
white tea with her, she
listens to his silent gaze,

as she waits for him
to return the moon’s
luminous phase