Honeycombs

the day can be short : sweet as honeycomb or sour as expired milk. my approach can be quick and found in an easy blindfold. in the nakedness of walks, the honeybees envy my conviction that life is filled with heavy sap, running nectar and the sweetest gems of nature's bounty. my tooth aches from the constant pulls and tugs from the secret memos that sounds the alarm in my day to day itinerary. Without regal capes or sparkling crowns, the Queen looks elsewhere. I am busy with what I do-- my buzzing is ordained elsewhere.