I have to smile at my habit
of sipping so lightly
at wisdom’s offered cup
before wanting to pass it along
with genuine generosity
and wisdom, more generous still
keeps bringing me flavours
and invitations
to drink the cup dry,
imbibing deeply,
a profound gluttony
I feared for so long,
satiation
from a cup that never empties.
These quenched roots
end travel as I have known it,
watering this precious blossom,
the offering not from any gesture;
scent wafting
from these full petals.