The Seeds of Honey

Bees buzz
on the inner line
of my lips.

I feel the energy of the earth
luminous with the force of light
ready to emerge from a single seed.

Peas are ready to be planted as the moon
escapes into the darkness--
that succulent place
where the roundness of spring
will capture the sweetness of honey--
green engorged
with the swiftness
of one season.

I gasp
at the simple outline
of plum blossoms,
redolent with a longing
for the swollen heat of summer.

Forgive me.
I have gazed ahead
at the pages of the next chapter.

I skip to the golden relief
of the harvest
already gorging myself
with the sweetest fruit;
embuliant, like a school girl,
trying on her school clothes
before the first day of fall.

The woman in me
slows to the pace
of one single day.

I open the soil with my fingers
and coax life,
waking at my touch
like the hum
of the hive
making music--

the unfolding
of delicate
pink petals
and the abundant
absolute
of this much hope.