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Bee Priestesses
baby honeybeecurling next to me to take nectar
my breast listens to your breath
your flowering mouth opens
finds the milk flow, we float
reunite, receive each other
eyes tenderly hide behind dark
lids curving like lotus petals
we see eternal sweetness everywhere
beneath blankets made
by grandma's quick hands
a smile passes across
your two-day-old face
as you sleep within my arm
a smile like a crescent moon.
Is radiance this ordinary?
The petal-edge of my heart
bends toward your lips
the ancient fragrance of waking
and dreaming, of honey,
of holding, of home,
of mild, mysteriously spun
from blood, from a freedom
we cannot understand
as the goddess feeds in bed, in bud.
Karen Howland
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