WILD HONEY

A hurricane lamp, a jar lid and a little dab of Honey.

Bee huntin' in wild Florida

What we're looking for is better than found money

The heat from the lamp makes the fragrance swirl.

Taste it on the breeze.

A Bee arrives, no straight lines but a whirl.

Douse the lamp and she takes a little taste.

Crazy dance moves.

Soon she brings friends with no time to waste.

Don't be fooled when they leave in one direction.

Right is Left.

Stand far enough back and see it's just a distraction.

Soon enough they'll turn and head for the hive.

Six or seven aimed the same.

The beginning is a throw off, a shuck and jive.

Move it closer three or four more times and heat the bait.

They'll lead you to their house.

Just be patient, you can wait.

A hollow oak, a twist of willow, once the roof of a gator cave.

Woven in the hanging roots.

They'll be thousands of times more honey to steal than you gave.

Get them drunk on pine needle smoke.

Brush them off real gentle.

Act like it's a friendly little joke.

Leave the Queen and her court and plenty for them to eat.

She's the big girl near the eggs.

The extra comb is for you, a sure enough treat.

Not store bought, watered down or pasteurized, but a flavor tornado.

Little bits of floating pollen

Dark and Rank from ragweed and palmetto.

Don't hit 'em more than once a year.

Never in winter.

Starvation is their biggest fear.

Take some and leave them more than enough.

You want them to survive and stay.

They'll be there for you when times get tough.

Sometimes at night , I smell it in my dreams

Home and Wild

Where simple pleasures are just what they seem.

Cathead biscuits with salted butter and wild honey.

We only bought the flour.

Poor folks with poor ways, better than found money.