Honey
Golden dripping from the bucket
Turned on its side.
Catch it with your finger as you
Lift the bucket and the last velvet drop
Slowly beads up around the spout.
Close your eyes as you
Bring your finger to your lips.
Taste summer sun
glisten on your tongue
And sizzle at the back of your throat.
Day 6 of National Poetry Writing Month
Not a Statue of a Goddess
Neither bronze nor alabaster
But spotted with dark and light pigment
Spots freckles cracks wrinkles pores
I squeeze pearls of moisture out of small tubes
Attempting to chisel away the years
That gather at the corners and crevices
I’m not direct carved, but rather
Constantly modeled shaped molded
Heated refined polished with the patination of time
Small Burdens 