Poetry About Honeysuckle

Honeysuckle climbs the fence without asking where the garden ends. Its pale trumpets release their sweetness into the warm dusk. A bee enters each bloom and leaves dusted with purpose. Children pull one thread of nectar from the narrow flower. The taste is almost nothing, which is why memory keeps it. Vines knot themselves around wire, branch, and abandoned gate.

A bee enters each bloom and leaves dusted with purpose. Night air carries the fragrance farther than daylight does. What seems delicate can cover an entire neglected wall. Summer speaks softly through a scent no jar can preserve. Even after cutting, green shoots return from hidden roots. Honeysuckle makes persistence smell like welcome.

Honeysuckle climbs the fence without asking where the garden ends. The taste is almost nothing, which is why memory keeps it. Vines knot themselves around wire, branch, and abandoned gate. Summer speaks softly through a scent no jar can preserve. The fence grows older beneath its living shawl. Honeysuckle makes persistence smell like welcome.