Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on November 9, 2011 0 Comments

In a small town
there is a small stand
next to a dirt road
which many people
still use daily
At this small stand
stands a small woman
in stature but not in spirit

She sells raw clover honey
and fresh Georgia peaches
every single day except
on Sunday when she rests
Everyone in town knows her
but not by her birth name
They call her Bee or Peach
mostly they call her Honey

Her hands tell the story of
a long life and hard work
her gray hair in a long braid
sensible shoes and sturdy jeans
her t-shirt hidden by an apron
of bright swirls of color

Folks think they know her
after years of casual conversation
and her kind words she thickly pours
easily upon their waiting ears
but they don’t know anything
below the surface of honeycomb
and woven baskets filled with fruit

Who ever took the time to listen
to a real response when they
politely asked her “how are you”?
If they did, just once
what a wealth of information
they would have received

She might have just told them
how old she really is
how many children she’s raised
how her husband is long dead
how much money is in her bank account
how she sells her honey and peaches
only to add some sweetness to
her corner of the world

(This poem is dedicated to Mike Firesmith.  It is his  birthday today.  Mike and I met on Gather many years ago.  Gather, and writing, brought us together, so it seems fitting that I dedicate this post to him.  Happy Birthday, Mike. xo)

About the Author ()

I am very passionate, sometimes too impulsive, a lover of life and all that it has to offer.

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