My Honeycup

My honeycup is full and sweet
And rich as walnut bark.
He sheds his gloom,
And golden bloom
Buds leaf and shimmers forth.
The cinnamon aloes warm me.
The velvet petals heal.
The sweet fronds whisper,”I love you,”
Till I can bloom for myself.

And in the forest chatter
And clutter of the leaves,
Undergrowth is heating up
The litter underneath
And changing it to something else
That's neither here nor there,
And yet exists as matter,
Or either energy.

So come exist with me, My Love,
As either, neither, both,
Until such times as churnings change us all,
And we take whatever forms
The yearnings prove to be,
And life makes of us
Whatever it shall make.

-jenn long