A Vapor’s Stage

A Vapor’s Stage:
A Poem

In a cup of coffee, or a spot of tea, watch the steam—
It’s a scent-thread from a needle of attention.
It meanders like the collective “we” forms a seam—
Patterns held together despite gesticulation.

Every demitasse or teacup a private ballet stage—
Vaporous apparitions plié, pirouette, then sauté.
Clothed in gray-white hoods like nuns or a sage—
Specters perform for the imagination like Don Quixote.

A spoon-baton agitates then taps the quartet of stringers—
A symphony without sound billows and plumes—
Clawing the air like a cellist’s nimble fingers—
An orchestration ribbons into adjacent rooms.

When you steep, pour, or brew, your senses consume—
A motif, a dance, a troupe in an operatic perfume.

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