Ode to Honey in my Tea
I
like pouring honey into my morning tea.
Honey,
stretching out languidly
After
a relaxing evening in its pitcher.
Honey,
sparkling and winking at me
As
if to say,
“Hey
check this out!
Sexy,
huh?”
As
it reaches dramatically for the liquid
Inside
my ceramic mug.
Then
honey, in all of its vintage magic,
And
all of its cheeky charm,
Performs
a single perfect cannonball
Elongated
into flips and twirls
And
rather arrogant spins
Inside
my tea.
Then
it melts,
Losing
its flexible shape,
But
resurrects itself
On
my tongue,
Where
it blossoms
Into
sweetness.
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