© 2020 - Natalie K. Stickel


This stone calls my tired feet, I sit, and

I'm still like honey.

I collapse into an amber puddle, folding into the earth, a gooey prism scattering gold.

It's sweet like honey-

the dirt between my fingers, home to everyone. She calls out an echo. Long and low, my bones answer.

I'm calm like honey.

The sky's above me, and I, too, was brewed by the devotion of a thousand humming sisters.

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