matcha and memories

I wrote a poem, originally posted at my fiction blog as a writing prompt for Madison Woods. A comment by one of the readers VB Holmes stopped me. If you have concussion symptoms from a silly bicycle crash ( on top of a lifetime’s worth of ringing bells from rugby ) cancer complicates things. You can wonder what causes things, wonder what are memories, and what are we?

memories, browning leaves so tenuously cling
to branch but rattle amidst the breeze
as if to say, I was here, mark my presence
lest I am forever gone

How glorious the shade of summer
where we kicked off our shoes and
danced and lived protected from the sun
and hard harsh illumination

but autumn deepens as does night
and one by one they drift away
released floating just beyond our grasp
what shelter from a barren tree

But VB so insightfully commented

…offer a thought on your observation to Claireful: “…if leaves are our memories, at the end of autumn, what are we?” We are the progenitors of those memories which, like fallen leaves, enrich the soil where new ones grow from old roots and carry forth a recollection of their origins.

Some things work at the cellular level much beyond my control, and resolve themselves as they will. But today at lunch, I ordered iced tea, iced green tea. And at the first sip, it exploded across my taste buds with the rich sensual flavor of roasted rice intermingled with subtle green tea. It was matcha, gunpower fine, worthy of a tea ceremony. I savored each sip above my meal. Beauty surrounds us, we just need to find it.

25 Comments on “matcha and memories”

  1. Bodhirose says:

    Love your poem and VB’s comment is very perceptive. If you see everything on that cellular level (or below)’ll find that all of life is a variation of vibrations…everything vibrates. Things change from one vibration to another as they disintegrate or decline…but “morph” into something else…never “dying” only changing. More food for thought… 🙂

    I read that book “The Gift of Fear” many years ago…good information that tells us to heed that intuitive part of ourselves.
    Gayle ~

  2. ohcgd says:

    yes! steeped in beauty we are…

    now I’m having some tea

  3. Bumba says:

    What about the tea leaves? They’re leaves too that were picked before they fell. And then you drink it – and, as you say, things work on the cellular level pretty much beyond my control.

  4. My melancholy Blog friend, I feel a lot like you. BTW I had my first iced green tea this summer, and loved it.

  5. globalunison says:

    I loved the poem though never knew ya were such a remarkable poet too!!
    The comment was doubtlessly insightful but your poem was much charismatic (according to me)!
    Have a good morning!

    • billgncs says:

      Thanks — Poetry is play, using words instead of grown up toys.

      I was thinking about you when I saw a re blogged post about safety. If you can find it at your library, you should get and read the book “The Gift of Fear” — I had my girls read it. It talks about often our inner radar can detect danger and how to listen to it and avoid danger.

      Although I am sure you will be safe, it never hurts for lovely young women to have “street smarts/common sense”

  6. Beautiful poem – very thought provoking. I will have to read it a few times I think.

  7. TheOthers1 says:

    That last stanza is great.

    Her comment is insightful and poetic itself.

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