The Taste of Honey

Synchronize your daydreaming
to the lighting of the stars
while you watch the blue moon rising
and you may find my hand
crossing the sky,
tempting fate.

If you are awake
you will see me
fingering this sweet, beautiful orb
hanging on the edge of the new year
like a droplet of fresh honey
to be placed on the tongue
for pleasure alone—
only to melt and glow
in the middle of my mouth.

Who am I
to be this bold,
to want this much happiness
all to myself?

Surely I am no goddess,
nor a woman of importance,
who will be forgiven for forgetting
my place in the dust.

Even so,
even with this warning
in the light of day,
I find you
with poetry
on your breath,
waiting eagerly
to kiss the lips
that have abandoned
the idea of sin
to sing the praises
of the truth
without shame
or fear of retribution.

Even the bee understands
what must be given
to prosper
at the edge
of such abundant
wilderness.