Real poetry about tea!

Normally, I'm loath to promote the cutesy side of tea culture. I tend to be allergic to anything with an embroidered cat on it or a purely decorative cozy. I've read my share of dreadful tea-themed "poetry," too — but there's a book available (Amazon shows it slated for Dec. 1, but you can buy it now directly from the author) of real poetry that happens to sing of tea.

Distinguished Leaves: Poems for Tea-Lovers by Elizabeth Darcy Jones is a neat volume of pert verse celebrating tea and its accoutrement. Cute by occasional default, most of the poetry here is quality and at least strives for literate standing beyond being a mere gift book from the acquaintances who perhaps know you as "the tea person." Try this sample:

"Afternoon Tea from Cornwall"

My gaze falls on the Fal – it’s dead on three
Tregothnan’s sun makes butter of my bones
Someone’s thinking, ‘Now’s the time, it’s time for tea!’

Tourists talk of Eden, Marazion and the sea
While clotted cream is spread on fresh baked scones
My gaze falls on the Fal – it’s dead on three.

Torn leaves – from bushes only feet away – are free
To swell, and fill the pot until it groans
Is someone thinking, ‘Now’s the time, it’s time for tea?’

It’s young, organic, grown right here and, naturally,
It tastes of rivers steaming smoky tones
My gaze falls on the Fal – it’s dead on three.

Best check your watch and travel West with me
Read the signs! Switch off your mobile phones!
Everybody’s drinking. ‘Now’s the time, it’s time for tea!’

The villain line that I forgot comes back to me
I reconnect to that which no one owns
My gaze falls on the Fal – it’s dead on three
This someone’s thinking, ‘Now it’s time, the time for tea!’