It's Still Life

Found On Elm Street

The golden sun
is a sticky honey,
a driven winter
from the hollows of trees.
Hiding-places. Like homes.
Or sweet sipping-streams.
If rumour’s true, you kept warm,
and smoothed your fingers
in heaven’s wander.

Found and Remixed text from “The Georgics“, by Virgil and translated by A. S. Kline. This poem is written for Miz Quickly’s Virgil on Bees prompt.

The original text is from this source. Note: “kept” is altered from “keep”.