devotion to duty
year after year, morning to night
your tea is served

Our morning is coffee is late — oh how we love to complain, and lecture too, on how the pickers in those countries far from sight and mind could be entrepreneurs, if they’d just put a bit, you know, of their fabulous earnings aside; if they just knew how. Some of us even fly over during our leap year in our youth, and waste valuable resources building rickity schools with no know-how except white skin, to help them develop. Others just complain about women’s rights in this modern world and ignore the rights of those far away, who don’t even have time to sit and whine.

So we end up buying our produce from the greatest crooks of them all, those that trumpet ‘fairtrade’ with stickers, but we do not even check on their unfair practices. And we continue to buy from the conglomerates because we do what we’re told, by advertising that promises us the world for a coffee, or tea.

But, despite all this, I wonder, who has the most zen, the teapicker or me? Who strives to live in the healthiest way, and nearly succeeds — nearly, because when you are so poor, it is always nearly.