Wabi-cha

I follow up the mountain,

a stream of pebbles light and

greet my way. I dwell below

the peak (in glimpses up); I

find it incapable of

reaching me. Seeds are planted

where their spring flowers will bloom.

The country potters fire their

kilns in preparation. Wait,

where we will enjoy. I find

peace and crest through patina,

cracked and chipped. Now, we partake

in aroma of nature,

dedicated in flavor.

Of life; of power, dipped in

blueish hue. To make only

to drink. Nothing more simple.

We are adjoined, effortlessly.

Together, the essence steeps

uncertain belief, deeper

than each leaf then plucked, and fresh

water boiled. What I had

followed, I see now eye to

eye. Loving this instant I've

sipped on; modest and refined.

~Jessi (poem)