Wildflower Tea

He brewed his tea in a blue china pot,

Poured it into a chipped white cup with

forget-me-nots on the handle,

and dropped in a dollop of honey and cream.

He sat by the window, cup in hand,

watching the first snowfall.

"I am," he sighed deeply,

"contented as a clam.

I am a most happy man."

- Ethel Pochocki