Happiness

The poem

In the afternoon I watched the she-bear; she was looking for the secret bin of sweetness - honey, that the bees store in the trees' soft caves. Black block of gloom, she climbed down tree after tree and shuffled on through the woods. And then she found it! The honey-house deep as heartwood, and dipped into it among the swarming bees - honey and comb she lipped and tongued and scooped out in her black nails, until

maybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybe a little drunk, and sticky down the rugs of her arms, and began to hum and sway. I saw her let go of the branches, I saw her lift her honeyed muzzle into the leaves, and her thick arms, as though she would fly - an enormous bee all sweetness and wings - down into the meadows, the perfections of honeysuckle and roses and clover - to float and sleep in the sheer nets swaying from flower to flower day after shining day.