Lift high the cups! Let crockery proclaim
the sacred moment: here, where nephew treats
the aunt he seldom sees, and grandpa meets
the grandchild and, for joy, weeps without shame.
Lift high the scone, the crumpet and the toast:
where staff smile at the solitary bloke,
the crumpled one—greet him by name; and cake—
one slice, two forks—becomes a kind of Host.
Lift high the tea, the coffee! precious drink:
here, where friends’ talk with love irradiates
the dregs in emptied mugs, the crumbs on plates;
such blessedness, this sharing what we think
and feel. Alleluia! Praise god indeed
for lattes, love, and getting what we need.
One of the ‘holy sonnets’ sequence.
First published in The Eildon Tree 32, April 2019.