the honeysuckle princess

the poet of the sun-drenched meadow

in a sun-drenched meadow

filled with sweet-scented honeysuckle vines

the fairy princess weaves flowers into garlands

and sings to attract butterflies and bees.

as she rests and drinks her sweet,

sweet nectar,

all the joy in the world flies over by her side,

and perfumes her whole being.

after joy, tiny spirits fly in

that can rid the heart

of sadness

with soothing songs played in a melody

that sounds like the color yellow.

her honeyed voice has the power

to charm even the grumpiest of beings.

she’s the smile on your face after anger

and the baby’s laughter after the fall. she lives

playful and free,

not ever being what you expect her to be.

she loves to deeply kiss the wind

and invites you to join in.

every spring she gathers the warmth

of the sun and traps it into

her tiny flowers

in a magical festival of light

and adornment. all the creatures

of the forest get drunk with dripping nectar,

that awakens all the flowers from their slumber

and restores the zest of the meadow

and the vine climbing your

grandmother’s porch, where dew turns to honey

and loss turns to hope.