Honey Psalm

Out to my hand
the limitless gold
is pouring and buzzing,
arriving through the early
August light
like a séance of bees.
Contrary to belief
we are haunted
by gem-like beings
dispensing the music
of blessings.
The only ghosts
are the good ghosts
of the wind and rivers,
the bright shadows
of the other world
more solid than ourselves.
I step off the painted ladder
and into the summer air.
The pollen builds around me
the shape of the faithful.

Seth Jani
Latest posts by Seth Jani (see all)

Leave a Reply