Bees Talk to Her

Where the folks and the words
Live side by side and in
The same rooms and at peace,

On the same side, as one,
You can find a fine crone,
Gap-toothed, not quite a witch,

Who knows how to lisp poems
That aren’t quite spells, that tell
The truth, which can be found

No place but in that town.
There, words and folks both speak
Of how it feels to be

The world and words for worlds,
Beasts and signs the beasts need.
Truth scrolls and falls like leaves

And is voiced by the leaves
She brews for dark poem tea.
There all things speak as selves,

The words as well. Sip some.
Too strong? Need it more sweet?
Ask her. She’ll ask the bees.