Honeycomb by Megan Craig

If your words are honey,
sunlight syrup so sweet
only the hand of God could create it;
a strand of amber beads
curling on my collarbone,
swirled nourishment and nectar
into hot water and chamomile blossoms
not unlike the ones it came from;

Then you, O Lord, are honeycomb,
steadfast and sure refuge,
strong tower of a thousand soft hollows,
clefts on clefts on clefts of rock for us to hide
fragile fuzzy bodies from the fullness of the sun.

I could fill a thousand pages
With a hundred thousand words;
Not one could ever call a blossom to open,
invent the word for its species,
design the curve and friction of its first letter,
or breathe life into the dust
that gives its roots their daily bread.

But I can speak the sweetness and strength
of the one who does.

Inspired by Psalm 119:103