‘Twas the night before Christmas
And I stumbled off to pee
Since just before sleep
I drank an entire pot of tea.
Heading back to bed
With a ridiculous yawn
I thought I heard something strange
Coming from my back lawn.
Peering out my window curtains
I quickly shut my eyes tight
Then opened then again
To a very strange sight.
I haven’t looked for Santa
In many years, let’s just say
And I certainly didn’t expect
To see a teapot-shaped sleigh.
But there it sat on the snow
With a handle and a spout
Just like that song
Little kids like to shout
Perhaps not a sleigh
No animals attached to it
Instead headlamps and a tailpipe
And a dashboard all lit.
I asked in confusion,
“Who the heck drives a teapot?”
“I do,” said a steamy voice
coming from my corner spot
Standing by my favorite chair
(The one with cushions all bunched)
Was a woman so tall,
By the ceiling she hunched.
With button boots to her knees,
A fine red plaid dress,
Burgundy, almond-shaped eyes,
Big blue curls: a glorious mess.
“I’m the Spirit of Tea
In case my transport wasn’t a clue.
I need help with a gift.
And was told to come to you.”
“There’s a Christmas party being hosted
By the elders of the Fae.
I need the perfect cup of tea!”
She plopped in my chair with dismay.
At this point I knew
Whether dreaming or awake
The challenge of tea
Was one I would take!
“You’ve come to the right place.”
I smiled and opened the door
To a cabinet full of boxes and bags:
Teas! Teas galore!
I boiled the water
And got the cups ready.
She picked out the leaves,
And I poured the tea steady.
Blacks, greens and yellows,
Whites, pur-erhs all fermented,
Herbals, twigs, and blossoms,
Flavored, infused, and scented.
She sipped and tasted
Through my extensive collection,
But still couldn’t find
The perfect selection.
“What’s this one?” She pulled out
A tiny box trying to hide.
I laughed when she found
It was empty inside.
“That’s ‘SpecialTea’: a little game
I played with a very young child.”
“Make me some!” She demanded,
Her eyes desperate and wild.
I took her cup gently
And heated water once more.
Then thought about what was needed
As I began to pour.
The ‘SpecialTea’ scoops
Might look like nothing on a spoon,
But my intentions for the drinker
Were what they would taste soon.
I added a dollop of honey
And handed the Spirit of Tea
My cup of ‘comfort’ and ‘joy’:
What Christmas means to me.
She sniffed and her shoulders relaxed.
“Smells like home-tree inside.”
She sipped and widely grinned.
“Tastes like my first teapot ride!”
“It’s perfect! I’ll take it!”
She declared and stood up tall.
I held on to my box for a moment.
Next to her we were both so small.
My ‘SpecialTea’ had memories
I didn’t want to have to part,
But I could always store them
In a box within my heart.
So I handed it to my strange visitor
But she shook her head with glee,
“Oh, I can’t do your magic.
You are coming along with me!”
“But it’s almost Christmas morning!”
I protested. She pulled me to the lawn.
“Time with the fae is different.
“You’ll still be back by dawn.”
We jumped in her puttering teapot.
Then raced into the starry skies.
I held my ‘SpecialTea’ close
And looked out with wide-eyes.
Curled up in my lumpy chair,
Christmas morn’ I woke groggily.
The tiny box still in my hand.
My kitchen an explosion of tea.
If you ask about my fae adventure
Well, some things I just can’t share.
If you say it must have been a dream.
I’ll reply, “I really don’t care.”
The Spirit of Tea is real
In every cup made to brew.
It’s not the leaves that make it special,
But the love that steeps from you.
Move with intention.