Poem: “Honey Locust” by Mary Oliver

Who can tell how lovely in June is the
honey locust tree, or why
a tree should be so sweet and live
in this world? Each white blossom
on a dangle of white flowers holds one green seed –
a new life. Also each blossom on a dangle of flower
holds a flask

of fragrance called Heaven, which is never sealed.
The bees circle the tree and dive into it. They are crazy
with gratitude. They are working like farmers. They are as
happy as saints. After awhile the flowers begin to
wilt and drop down into the grass. Welcome
shines in the grass.

 

Each year I gather 

handfuls of blossoms and eat of their mealiness; the honey 

melts in my mouth, the seeds make me strong, 

both when they are crisps and ripe, and even at the end 

when their petals have turned dully yellow. 

 

So it is 

if the heart has devoted itself to love, there is 

not a single inch of emptiness. Gladness gleams 

all the way to the grave.