we don't like stevia

to be careless

a frolicker

behind sunny windowsills overlooking empty swimming pools

to bounce on the balls of my feet

unafraid of tripping

slipping, falling

to be held - in faith

in a lovely homely space where

loose tea and butter bricks

never run out

appear magically in tin jars, full to brim

where fish is grilled, and stevia

loathed with passion