Our Lady of Honey

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Our Lady of Honey

Dedicated to Michael Karl

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Her black hair is twined at the back. 

Her dusky skin, a beauty imbued with youth. 

Her hands composed,

She stands so straight she appears tall. 

It is a stance of respect 

For those who approach the honeys. 

All around, the carnival can not conceive of her.

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Beauty always intimidates with awe. 

I dare approach, a friend at either side, a bit behind. 

She does not smile. Instead, she looks me in the eyes, wise. 

“At the House of Honey, here in Amado,

We are devoted to transfiguring the harvests of honey

From bees that are wild.  We are not their keepers. 

We seek their hidden habitats, hike the hitherto untrodden path,

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Even unto, then into the mountains. 

Once what is raw becomes distilled and rarified within our house,

Our hive of light, we bring our wares, our elixirs, our choices to you,

To all who gather in the market squares, the open air.

I notice how her row of jars gleams with hints and tints of gold,

The glass winking a glint in the morning’s shine. 

“Which of these will you choose?”  She almost speaks my thought.

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Almost. 

I answer, “Indeed, how shall I choose?

But, I am taken by that one there, the palest hue.”

She nods, “A popular pick.  Mild, it neither intimidates nor aspires to inspire. 

She points to a more solid hue. “This one is very pronounced, as if from a herald.”

She continues, “This third, the richest one of all, when you share it,

It leaves the deepest impression on others.”

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As if I were an eminence, she awaits my decision.

When I am silent, she speaks in reverie as if to encourage me.

“As we bee people climb towards the mountains, 

Happily, we envision our descent to a reunion celebrated with gifts,

Even if those gifts come at a price.

A gift disarms, a gift announces a good intention. We share,

As an inspiration for others to share. So, what do you care to purchase?

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What do you dare?”

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Undecided, indecisive, I turn to my friends. I look to you.

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Wisely, our lady of honey looks elsewhere, a statue of merciful silence, waiting.

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Steven Golden

November 24th to November 26th

Green Valley, AZ


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