Honey
Running through the forest
with his hatchet,
it’s sweetness he’s seeking.
He’ll follow a bee all day,
go straight through the brambles,
stop each time it settles
on a flower, until it leads him
to the hive. I remember
how persistent he could be,
how patient.
Then he’ll cut into the tree
and honey will run out.
When he took me
with him, I watched and thought
he could get to the gold
inside anything.
Once he chased me.
Now, he claims hives,
carving only his own initials
into the bark."
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