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Description
I'm not even outside

and the pollen

is gathering on my bones

like a thin dusting

of powdered sugar.

I know

by the end

I will taste like honey,

and the bees will be my friends.

I am a guest

in the tent of Abram;

I am a slave

to the earth, and it is a kind master.

Clutch us close

before the heat takes us away,

and save the blossom petals

to remind you of the good days.