Pull every honeysuckle
Off from the chainlink fence
Thick gloss black paint
With blistering scabs of rust
Pale petals sprouted forth
A natural gradient from pure white
To healthy green
Upon the smooth waxy stems
Snap one off between your fingers
The thin feelers inside
Hungry for pollen
If it suits you
Pull them out
Place the flower to your lips
And taste the sweet flavor
Not one that is bottled
Or packaged
But rather the faint breeze
Of the spring air
Gusting its way into your lungs
From the fresh wound
Which drips with nature’s nectar

-Galwyn

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