AN ODE TO FIRST FLUSH DARJEELING

as month and month passes by
the warm spring sun fills the sky
i wait in heated anticipation
as the fresh crop grows in the plantation

leaves picked and placed in wicker
your delicate sweet liquor
flavours filled with characters that are deep
i close my eyes in a twilight sleep

i awake on the day as it arrives
awaiting the taste that revives
i pour the nectar in a cup
and lean back as i feel myself soaking it up