Honeysuckle

    

Even before I wake,
          you are trembling
in summer silence.

          When your name
     softens my heart,

the angry world seems
          to bow

     toward some mysterious
          droplet

     in its own blossom,

          forgetting who to blame.

The sign that I have
     called You

is the tiny broken stamen

          dyeing the whole sky 

     with sweetness.

Only You are
          insignificant enough

     to understand this.

Our secret befuddles 

          the important ones.

The distance between us    
          is less than
     a bee's proboscis.

Better than oneness

          is the veil of love.

     I hold You on my tongue.