The Moon (Tea Leaves)
Night is lowered, sinking. Its shade
begins to steep the sky. Before I see
I feel the moon (the one that waits
between our worlds).
Thin clouds look like sweat steam
to be cupped in moonlight, drawn calmly
like the water around our hearts – we too
retain a tide (the one that pulls apart
and together again).
Within the bloom of heat,
the teacup in my hands,
I sense a moment soon when
my palms will open to the sky (the one
that lifts us slowly to its lips).
The moon will be full, so ripe and ardent,
and it will speak hushed, tenderly
to us (the ones who sit outside alone
and sip on cups of tea).
Ben Hartwiger is a poet from Birmingham, Alabama. After graduating from Texas A&M University with a degree in philosophy, he has spent the past year working as a wildland firefighter across the southeast. In his free time, Ben enjoys playing guitar, hiking, and competing in table tennis tournaments.