haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

Jasmine white tea eases off the gold-inflected rush of masculine vibrato. 
His forearms come to mean the whole Romantic period. I leave the 
precious metal in its case. From kitchen's white, songbirds define
late-spring, in close succession. A pencil moves against the page, fills in 
each regulation square. How thin the residue, gentility received from silken 
haze. Small sips enfold a choice upon the threshold of becoming 
space. A moment to myself. Some syllables, one breath each. No shadow 
of the thing. The thing itself. Smooth table, unsourced light, beyond 
vocabulary of one tone.

All at once, at once, just this

Sheila E. Murphy