Jump directly to the content
Subscribe to Christianity Today

Susanna Childress

Sweetly from the Tree

Listen, stamen: your surrender is just a beginning,
the spinous distance between desire and the quiet
clinch of satisfaction. Take the hexagon, how it
will fill, fanned with wings that mean to bring
April's nascent truths. In winter, I will not ask
where the bees have gone. I will walk to the grove
in my old boots and give ear. Littlest of lovers,
vested in pistil and comb, I speak now to you: dance
your tremble. Perhaps you of all, not drone but roamer, know
what purple means—given, some morning darker than
the human hymn of misgivings, you turn home
and make there what the orchid could not, alone.
Only your precision is a secret: prism of nectar, haven of gold—
I want what you want, and the stamen, and the sun.

To continue reading

- or -
Free CT Books Newsletter. Sign up today!
Most ReadMost Shared