Bitter Honey

            after some lines by Mary Oliver

Sometimes there is
just sitting

on a blanket of wet
grasses—dew spill
and sensation—a book
in your lap, the pages
open to a moment

that stays

in a kind of surly
rapture

and your breath
catches, and your
mouth is a red
pasture

where words graze
on the bitter honey plant.

Susan Kelly-DeWitt | Season of Change
Contents | Mudlark No. 46 (2012)