Morning is warm and tender as I look
At the jar and the sun coming through, the
Light heaven without sound, mute,
Turned down choirboy sinking in orange is
A golden soprano and sun steals
Crackling and sloping, melting honey.
Aeolian songstrell in the garden blind and mute,
Lacking blue and closing. A spiral tumbling is
Danger rumbling in her eyes, spitfires in the
Sunlight. Still in whisper to your retreating back. Honey
Lamb? Loving is a wicked way to damage and steal
Leaving me blinking in the heat haze and looking.
Time is a mockingbird and I laugh but it is
Thin and cruel, so careless too, stealing
The glaze off the new day, making mute
The lovely singing that began it and looking
Tawdry in the water trough. Perennial pines, honey
Moon lines that I remember in the starting heat. The
Winter trees bow in the August breeze, the
Dull dangerous burring of the honey
Bees sets my mind on fire and it is
A bushfire eating all in its patch, stealing
Life from the rafts floating bees to lilies looking
Love in the open face and leaving it mute.
I run my finger around the rim of the glass and it is
Hot now. Soft pad pressing warm honey.
The winter eclipse passed me by as I looked
At the sky but saw only your lips mute-
Mouthing words; words alone no deeds to drive it home, the
Lies peeling skin off someone, stealing,
Like you’ve always done, what is
Not yours. Fine fingers built me a love nest, honey-
Comb cells in an apiary, queen bee mute,
Listening for morning song reaching melody into the
Segmented disharmony. But a cold spell steels
An open heart folding beating wings to look.
Sunshine on the water where bees gather, bathing moss
And pinecones, marbling honey in honeycombs. Fine netted
Eyes look; the mute is stealing honey.