You caught me honey-bee
I always thought I was a wasp
With a grin sting, turning green
In the porch light, no, though.
I turned out to be a moth with
Soft wings, coming off on your fingertips

I’m grateful for the bees, he says:
You will hive me forever. On those movies
It was only the words that turned me: each
One an aphotic kelp forest, swirling otters
Coming up and over the sweating sun.

Antediluvian moments, he used to call them,
The seven deluges you carved out in old
Display cases, native beads, Asian threads.
I realized the honey was mine all along.

I swear on summer: the long dirt power line trails,
Old grass, dehydrated trees. ON being young:
It was completely sensory, only a story stuck
To the concrete:

Summer is just a word and honey
Is only a permanent poem, something
We swear on, though.


About the Author: Sarah Felder

sarah felder profile picMy name is Sarah Felder, I am from Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts. I am finishing up my degree here at APU this spring. I am inspired by nature, nostalgia, and the passing of time. I love contemporary poetry, but read all genres from all times and places. Some of my favorite poets include, Elizabeth Bishop, Ezra Pound, Stephen Dobyns, and Sharon Olds.


  • Elena Bushue

    I liked this open a lot. I liked how this reflects what you think about Bee’s themselves, it really shows through in this poem, in a good way. I realized that your poem was in the Bee’s prospective of things, which I thought was very cool, and really shows your knowledge of Bee’s and what they do. This was very cute, and I loved it.

  • Alexa Daniels

    This really took me straight to summer when I read it. Awesome sensory details in here! I can really tell you’re a nature lover just by the feelings evoked. Thanks for sharing 🙂

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