Poem for Sunday

Sourwood Honey

We fanciers of sourwood honey have a theory:
It's what was meant by "nectar of the gods,"
Back when hyperbole was common usage.
Some still claim that it's made by bees and angels;
Too ignorant to argue, I imagine
The keepers of the bees turning around
Three times  and genuflecting toward the east,
Before they loose the bees among the blossoms.


By JRC, 06/12/11

*
6:45 p.m.: I was up very early this morning, and I meant to go to the last performance of "Second Samuel," if it wasn't sold out. But I felt so bad--my cold or whatever is worse today--that I lay back down and slept until it was too late to get to the church at 2:30.  Maybe the antibiotic is just loosening up the congestion, but I've coughed and sneezed till I'm exhausted.

I've spent the last 4 hours going through the Big Baby manuscript, making changes and explanations, including the ones Susan marked when she read it. Her remarks, like Ramey's, were very helpful, and I really appreciate their reading and commenting.