Milk and Honey

I went down into the Valley
To drink honeysuckle
And hear the buzzing of bees.

Vines choked the blossoms.
The thorns pricked my fingertips
As I opened up yellows and whites

I cut them down
Bleeding,
Wanting only that honeysuckle

When I had finished, I
Looked around,

heart-broken at the pile of weeds.



(C) Kate Finneran 2002





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