By dusk the drones are drowsy
Nectar satiated;
Engorged on honey suckle,
Babies breath, and lilac

She;

Caramel skinned
Keeper of the hive;
One dead eye, one blue;
Ankle bells and scent of raw sunshine;
Pale linens and
And all the grace of ballet

Ripe with earth magic,

Emerges unstung
With a sticky sweet smile
Hands laden
With patience and
Confection;

Jingles down a dirt road
To a thatch and earth home

To thank her Gods
For another day
Of fruit from the earth.



I haven't committed to being done with this officially. But I have for the time being.