Honeysuckles

My tiny bare feet glide

through fallen forest.

Toe

to

heel,

so no jagged rock can press

into my blushing soft skin.

Vibrating hums tell me

I am close

and honey reds

find my nose before my eyes.

I stop

before

my rosy bush

and sit at a distance.

Small bodies dance

between each coral mouth,

dipping their tiny feet

into the openings

and kissing

away the sweet nectar.

My mouth drips for honeysuckles,

but the bees

keep me

sitting,

staring

at the pinks and reds.

I pacify my tongue

with a finger

and imagine the flavor:

candied insects

spread my lips

and I       

blossom.