a cup of tea
a cup of tea sits on a clean white saucer,
blowing steam at the chill morning air
its newspaper companion, yet unread, lies at its side
crisp, and crackly and new
the sunbeam crawls slowly over the windowsill,
down the sink, over the counter,
up onto the cabinets
Milly the cat leaps down from a chair
she picks at the blue and yellow throw rug,
each claw grabbing a tuft of material; she lies down,
her fur a ball of orange fire
she pushes her velvety front paws forward and her back paws back
long and lazy and bathed in sunshine
like the day that stretches out deliciously before us
Carol Raftery
