The poem
It fills you with the soft essence of vanished flowers, it becomes a trickle sharp as a hair that you follow from the honey pot over the table
and out the door and over the ground, and all the while it thickens,
grows deeper and wilder, edged with pine boughs and wet boulders, pawprints of bobcat and bear, until
deep in the forest you shuffle up some tree, you rip the bark,
you float into and swallow the dripping combs, bits of the tree, crushed bees - - - a taste composed of everything lost, in which everything lost is found.
i beleive this is one of the best poems mary oliver has ever written.
Yes! Fresh and imaginative.
I think one only gets this sensation with quality honey! I like how Oliver has the reader traveling back to the source--to make us understand that the honey was a process on many levels. Somehow I thought of amber and how the most prized ones are those that contain generous pieces of organic material.
I think I will buy some wild honey now, read this poem and just enjoy the simple pleasure.
English
Of the most sensuos poems ever read these days. An excellent example of ecofeministic poems