A Morning in Shanghai

a poem

Very few things are as pretty as the fallen leaves after the rain. Cold flames on the ground. Fall’s romance. This is a poem that came to me today as I photographed my aunt’s garden. Enjoy the final traces of this season, my friends. Sending you love from near and far. 🧡

I wake this morning to a whiff
of passion fruit tea in my aunt’s teapot.
Sweet-tart, a burst of sunshine
on a rainy day. 

On other days, the fragrance 
of rose, 
Istanbul love tea, 
pu’er, 
pear…

Smear jam over crispy toasts,
sip a cuppa, take in the serenity.

There’d be singing, too.
The dog curls by her feet as she practices 
a new piece her choir composes.

Sometimes, I glimpse her in the garden,
pruning vegetables and plucking peppers 
in a bamboo basket, misting her orchids.

Pastries on the table when she’s not home:
matcha rolls, baos, croissants, blueberry scones
with a note tucked under: Out for errands. 
The big one is for you.

12/11/2024