Farmhouse Tea

Yr Correspondent is not sure how much trouble he is getting himdelf into here, but guesses there is only one Bonnie Brooke of his aquaintance, and anyway he can never bear
to be out-smarted...
A new voice is anyway deserving of a new pen-name. He likes where this is going and is reminded of:

Then cautiously she pushed the cellar door
And stepped into the kitchen--saw the track
Of muddy rubber boots across the floor,
The many paper parcels in a stack
Upon the dresser;
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I saw the marble cup; the tea,
Hung on the air, an amber stream;
I saw the fire’s unglittering gleam,
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