The bowl is still cracked,
but gold glints
in early light.
Steam from the tea
rises—
a soft unravelling.
Outside, the plum tree
shakes off
a single blossom.
You are nowhere,
and still
I pour two cups.
Ryan Stone
Kintsugi Morning
too much coffee, too little sleep, a love of words…
The bowl is still cracked,
but gold glints
in early light.
Steam from the tea
rises—
a soft unravelling.
Outside, the plum tree
shakes off
a single blossom.
You are nowhere,
and still
I pour two cups.
Ryan Stone
days of stone 
Beautifully penned Ryan. Love the imagery. Happy Poetry day My Friend..
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Thanks so much for reading. Really appreciate the nice comment, too 🙂
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Pleasure My Friend. Stay Smiling. Happy Blogging.
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Right back at you 🙂
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“There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” … Leonard Cohen
“Invincible Pieces”
I, a broken ginger jar
I, have been damaged and mismanaged
I, am repairable and valuable … Ivor
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Exactly that. Thanks, mate 🙂
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You’re most welcome, Ryan
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Hope you’re well, my friend. Mornings are getting cold!
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Yep … too cold for this old poet … 🤗
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Beautiful words about holding space.
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Thank you, Violet 🙂
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How beautiful. I’m familiar with bowls being repaired with molten gold, so I was picturing the scene of your poem before I scrolled far enough down to see it.
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What a wonderful way to step into a poem, Alarie. I hope I did your mind-image justice. Lovely to hear from you, I hope you’re well 🙂
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Your poetry always lifts my spirits, Ryan. Wish I could be as prolific.
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Stick with quality over quantity, Alarie 🙂
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