Slosh

Slosh in the kettle’s steam‑kissed throat,
A golden brew that sways and wobbles,
Each ripple a quiet laugh,
As the liquid leans left then right,

Tea‑stained ripples kiss the china’s rim,
A hesitant wobble, then a sudden surge,
The cup shivers, a tiny sea,
Where heat and motion entwine.

Beyond the window, rain‑slick streets gleam,
Puddles gather, then sigh in slosh,
Tyres hiss, sending soft spray aloft,
A fleeting chorus of wet applause.

In the kitchen, the sink embraces suds,
Foam crowns topple, sliding over the edge,
A bubbly avalanche that slips and slides,
Turning chores into a liquid ballet.

Even the old dog’s water bowl knows the tune,
His snout dips, sending arcs of shiny spill,
Each lap a miniature tide,
A reminder that life, too, loves to slosh.