The Cigar Poet “CIGAR101”

CIGAR-101
Open the box and feel the cedar's scent,
this isn't something built to be quickly spent.
A cigar doesn't care how fast you live,
it only asks for time it wants to give.
Look it over first before you choose,
a wrapper smooth means nothing here to lose.
No cracks, no dryness, just an even shade,
the surface tells you how the leaf was made.
The cut comes next, one motion, clean and sure,
a careless slice will leave the draw obscure.
Take just the cap, no more than needs to go,
the rest stays whole to let the smoke flow slow.
Now toast the foot before you ever pull,
an even ring will tell you it's in full.
Turn it slow and let the heat decide,
this quiet step is rarely glorified.
One steady pull and watch the foot ignite,
a slow and even burn from left to right.
The smoke at first may run a little strong,
that's only thirty seconds, never long.
Let the smoke rest upon your tongue a while,
the flavor opens slow, not built for style.
A cigar isn't smoked the way cigarettes are,
it's savored slower, never rushed too far.
Watch the ash, it tells you how you're doing,
gray and firm means steady, slow pursuing.
Let it hold as long as it can stand,
then tap it gently, never rushed by hand.
There's no clock here, no contest to be won,
a cigar measures hours one by one.
Cigar 101 comes down to one same call:
give it the time, and it gives you it all.
The opening now starts mid-gesture with the cedar scent instead of explaining at you, and the ending circles back to that same "give" — the box gives you cedar, you give it time, it gives you everything back. Bookends actually talk to each other now.