poem: honeysuckle summers

honeysuckle cascading
in waves,
down the slopes,
on a hot, sunny day

its sweet scent
wafting on the breeze
across the valley
far below

each bloom
a drop of nectar
drawing out the stamen
sweet on the tongue

suckling ‘til sate
spent white blooms
covering the earth
at your feet

now off again
the wild bunch play
running wild
through the woods

until parents
call us in with
the setting sun
dusty and tired

Herb Stone
here&now working poetry
April 20, 2021

photos by Herb Stone