9 poems dugger - Trish Dugger

Honeysuckle So Thick
in the canyon, a kid can walk on it,
lie back on a honeysuckle hammock,
head spinning in mist of sweet scent.
He picks a blossom, pulls its stamen,
puts it to his lips, sips its one drop
of honey and floats, eyes closed.
Sudden frenzy of bees. Muffled
thunder of resounding hum sends
him stumbling from woozy wonder.
But now he knows how heaven feels,
the spell of its aroma, its honey taste.
And now he owns a secret place
where nobody can ever find him,
sunk deep in honeysuckle vine,
yellow dust on his bare feet.