Down on the ranch they brought in honey. Manuel dug it out of a tree. Jasmine swirled when the honeycomb broke. The thick drops tasted a little of smoke, A dusky flavor like oboes chuckling Low in their throats. A flavor like tea That comes from a Chinese jar I know, But there was resonance in it too, Sweetness inscrutable, mingled quince And pomegranate blossom . . . The wild bees must Have come home powdery with the dust Of tiger orchids; and rosewoods grew By the canyon river. It seemed to me That gold dark honey was Mexico. I have been tasting it ever since. |