Toast with Honey
by Steven McCabe
You walk home from the dance
Thinking of the girl you met
Wearing an orange dress
If she would love you
If you tied yourself
To the wing
Of a small plane
Cars drive slowly crunching snow
You think of human pyramids
You see the tree on the horizon
& plan a filmic strategy
She spoke with an accent
Pronouncing the titles
By her favourite artist
Influenced by somebody
Wooden spoon dripping honey
You foray out into the world:
At the library
Summoning the gods
of the Dewey Decimal System.
Last night the street was quiet with softly falling snow, not too cold, and it took me back to something that may or may not have happened.
I remembered being young & swirling ribbons of sticky, amber honey & trips to the library.
And walking home late at night considering both the terrible and the hopeful & being puzzled by the odd flash of invisible magic charging the air.
The NASA space photo used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic License.
The goldfish found online, no photographer credited.
The street scene I snapped with my phone.
… I love the way you’ve put this together, Steven. The verse is perfect. Thanks for reminding me of the snowy streets under lamplight cushioning while still enhancing the sensate wonders of possibility. Meandering was a spiritual experience!
It’s heartening to know I can still call it to mind. I’ve been my own drill sergeant lately. Blah….!
Thank you j.h. love the word cushioning…
A surreal and transcendent journey into your memory banks Steven…stills from old film reels of sensual youth…the mystery woman in the orange dress evoked as a very attractive fish…the juxtaposition of her and honey and snow…layer upon layer of remembering and meaning…beautifully done my friend…
Thank you John. …her and honey and snow… in a still from an old film reel…love it
Wow! Worlds within worlds. Travelling is unique in your honey world x
thank you for this warm thought Narelle, perhaps in honey world …memories become fish…
“the odd flash of invisible magic charging the air”, yes! Moments of wonder.
A beautiful poem, Steven. Those dripping amber memories are charming.
Thank you Karen for thoughts about moments of wonder reappearing… & the amber still flowing…
The fish thanks you!