Breakfast in Japan

It’s always cool in the mornings 

Old, thin walls and tatami mats

Only small heaters

For the bedroom

Cold, bare feet,

Become grateful for slippers 

Warm bodies

Wrapped in cotton 

Watching the tea kettle.

How nice it will be 

To press the cup 

Between my hands

To warm my fingers. 

The days dissolve into the constant 

Rice paddy landscapes 

When did time begin slipping out from under me? 

It’s no faster here, 

Than anywhere else.

Only here,  I can see it

Rushing forwards. 

Pour the water.

Watch the steam.

Warm your fingers.

If anything can hold back time, 

Surely it’s a slow cup 

Of morning tea.