3 tastes of honey

1. fireweed honey

light, sweet, delicate; pale

and translucent but just a hint

of glimmer and glitter, like sequins

on a party dress of palest blush

for your daughter just 16; the kind of gleam

when dawn is too shy to peek over the hills

and teases you with the edges of her light;

the sweet brush of your mother’s hand

on your cheek at bedtime and the sweep

of your father’s thumb across your forehead in a nightly blessing

you think it should burn, from its name,

but instead it’s the warmth of a baby’s giggle

2. wildflower honey

thicker, grainy, not as sweet

but bolder, bigger, brighter. it comes

across the meadow, laughing and dancing,

making no apologies for its heftier frame

because why should a wildflower be ashamed of anything?

they grow rough and tumble as they wish,

though still sweet, because wildflowers are flowers, too.

no delicate hothouse varieties, but something sturdy

enough to spread in brambles and fields.

this is a cup of tea.

3. creamed honey

pearlescent and smooth, coming to you

like wisdom and weather and something ageless;

a swish of skirts in a studied, swirling spin across

the boards of a ballroom floor; it’s dark outside

but in here the lights are on, the music is playing,

and he’s looking at you with the moon in his eyes

and stars burn in your throat and maybe

tonight will never end, and you’ll waltz in his arms forever.

#siwc #siwc2017 #workshoppoetry #sensoryinput #honey