‘My trip is this teabag, giving up its love
This perforated planet, in my steaming mug’
Every day is a poem.
From the first cup of tea in the morning as the recycling lorry trundles down the street to those final random thoughts before we drop off at night. As the children grow up and someone we love dies; as we rage against life and love brings us home.
‘Dear Life, Dear All, Dear Me, Dear You
A prayer, a sign, some shy synchronicity
Some days all we ask for is some kind of clue’
Martin Wroe lives with Meg, a painter, in North London where their devotion to each new day begins with tea. At one time on staff at The Independent and later The Observer and a former chair of the Greenbelt Arts Festival, Martin is an associate member of the Iona Community and a regular contributor to BBC Radio 4’s Thought for the Day.
Cover image by Meg Wroe
This perforated planet, in my steaming mug
Onward flight in the dark of compost bin,
With potato peel, onion and banana skin
From Sri Lanka or Kenya, this leafy supernova
Here in my kitchen, this miraculous stopover
The quiet humus of mineralisation
Organic breakdown, mostly just waiting
How earth flavours and fires this life every day
I get it, Julian, this teabag, how it’s all that is made