An act of volition
subsumed in a translucent, viscous relationship,
a love begetting futures like honey
in a tree-trunk hive.
Altogether a brightening morn with dew moist grass,
sky promising rain to those flowers
from whence comes the love of honey
every long day.
As such, the emotional connection is a fluid promise
between communities of two, three, four, and so many more than
as children of the mind and sea,
heart and valley,
belly and massif,
soul and gorge.
Repetitive and underground in the midst of a prototype global economy,
parasitic, predatory, socially scientific;
fissures naturally swell in the doors of perception
as sinewy, ravenous rakes sweat out the harvest again.
Thanks again to a future begotten
in a tree hive with blackening storm clouds
loam and gut digesting the verge as do male and female in their own way;
Crest and trough,
Peak and valley
the snapping beak and shrewd eye of a raptor sweeping that same harvest field
near to the tree
where the bees make their honey
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