I taste a concoction
An investment of time
sublime. In the elegance of the heritage crystal
Of berries so rich and royal
Such potency!
The family room
Takes on an air of inebriation
Like the carpet is dewed
with aged cherry
a merry playful mist ensues
There are words of nectar
Wine and fortification
Going to fine Inns
To carry on this rousing
Shall there be but more?
This, the soup of hope
In nature’s bowl
Our souls the spoon of courage
And wonder
Rimmed with idle curiosity
Sweet and sour
The pain of what draws me
And the joy of dawning retreat
The victory of my shelter
Whether wood or a broken heart
The little miracles
In frantic flight
The sight of buzzing Bees
In their visitation
of fragrant passing
Tasting
a part of me
I felt Dickinson in this poem….Great job
This is wonderful. You really capture the essence of Emily’s writing.
I particularly love:
This, the soup of hope
In nature’s bowl
Our souls the spoon of courage
And wonder
Rimmed with idle curiosity
WOW, very much appreciated