right now there is nothing I want more than 
a pint jar of honeysuckle jelly 
that tastes like the air of Kentucky May 
when sunshine heats the pale-yellow petals
beneath a cloudless blue sky
a breeze blithe on my newly bare skin
the undergrowth of green vines vivid against shadow

right now there is nothing I want more than honeysuckle jelly 
and you 
alive at the kitchen table in our house in the woods 
spooning jelly on the scratch biscuit in your hand
winking a blue eye at me 
sun reflecting off the glass jar of palest yellow
shadows bound to the vines on the edge of the woods around our house