a cuppa at the end of october

a group of three
we gather round the kettle

it’s only a kind of billy
although a large one
too big
to swing around our heads
held by the handle
as the bushmen of the outback do
but we have our special ways
and each take our turn to grow it
and to stir

that seems only fair

the chai is thick and sweet
an acquired taste perhaps
but we most certainly
have acquired it
with its bubbles boils and rising steam
the ingredients suggest themselves
within the fragrance

not for the weak at heart
this brew calls out
it shouts for character
and we have all of that and more
you don’t live the life we do
and not grow character

I believe
my face my nose grows longer
every time I draw the steam
doesn’t do a lot for beauty I know
but
I can’t resist it
that deep pleasure
dear heart of mine it makes me smile
it makes me laugh out loud

so good
it’s wonderful to be alive
this midnight
glowing underneath the moon
with a billy-cup of special chai

ah
please excuse me
if I cackle

 

---

© Frank Prem, 2003

---

Appeared in: The Australia Times Poetry Magazine VOL. 3 NO. 20 2015