Rising Tide by Jane Corbett

Rising Tide

I've warmed the honey well
And it's dripping off the comb.
Translucent gold streams,
Caught in the light drifting

Through the half open door.
My feet scuff the paper
Laid out on the floor.
Last week's news

Soaking up the damp.
The first honey drip falls
Onto the headline ‘Sea
Level Rise: This time it's For Real'.

I wash my sticky fingers and pause.
The wind blows, a clock ticks.



Jane Corbett