second coming of age

we are women now

drinking tea on a sunny afternoon—

mango ceylon or ginger mint?

we each choose carefully, with taste

and tasting in mind

the first decade of adulthood is behind us

and so is the past

for all the gifts of our college years,

this was not one of them:

the resurrection of our lives

from the ashes of who we thought we were

the sun moves across the windows,

tracing the hours we do not bother

to track

the tea grows cold in the bottom

of our cups

we share our new names,

writer, woman, poet

the treasure beginning to unbury itself

poetry flutters between our spirits

like those little white butterflies in summertime,

hovering in the air above our table,

a place we would never have found ourselves

if it had not been for the

second coming of age