In the afternoon I watched <br />the she-bear; she was looking <br />for the secret bin of sweetness - <br />honey, that the bees store <br />in the trees’ soft caves. <br />Black block of gloom, she climbed down <br />tree after tree and shuffled on <br />through the woods. And then <br />she found it! The honey-house deep <br />as heartwood, and dipped into it <br />among the swarming bees - honey and comb <br />she lipped and tongued and scooped out <br />in her black nails, until <br /> <br />maybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybe <br />a little drunk, and sticky <br />down the rugs of her arms, <br />and began to hum and sway. <br />I saw her let go of the branches, <br />I saw her lift her honeyed muzzle <br />into the leaves, and her thick arms, <br />as though she would fly - <br />an enormous bee <br />all sweetness and wings - <br />down into the meadows, the perfections <br />of honeysuckle and roses and clover - <br />to float and sleep in the sheer nets <br />swaying from flower to flower <br />day after shining day.<br /><br />Mary Oliver<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/happiness-6/
