Reminiscence Of A Handmade Mug

Inspired by a special community in New Brunswick.

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Here in this soft white room,
as stars begin to peek through inky blackness,
they sit on cushioned chairs,
nestle under throws,
and clasp earthenware.

We mugs hold their cocoa or their tea
(herbal...berry, from the tea drawer).
We are at the centre of their contemplation.

They collect memories and musings from their week,
connect tidbits of shared meaning to kernels of wisdom.

We keep them grounded,
remind them of the clay of the earth from which we were formed,
the hands and kiln that shaped us;
how tangible, personal, the process we were created.

The cat purrs in the corner,
books line the shelves as candles flicker on the table.
Quotes and writings are shared -
stories alive and alight in hearts and minds
to carry each of the group forth into a new week.

We grow cold as they finish their tea,
their cocoa, chocolate, treats.

They return to their abodes elsewhere.

We get bathed in hot soapy water, rinsed, dried
and set once more upon our hooks.

Next week they will return,
as stars begin to peek through inky blackness.
They will choose one of us
to join them in the soft white room.

We will be there,
at the centre of their contemplation.

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