Behive

How regal is this hive hanging from a tree!
It is filled  with  the poetry of honey, sweet presence.
Aren’t bees great poets after all?
They compose honey out of joy and sorrow.

Don’t look for me in the past or in the future, my friend;
Look for me in the beehive,
in the dark alleys crowded with the homeless
In the crib where your child loses herself to sleep.

Don’t look for me in your head.
Or in your flawless grammar
Not even in your sweet dreams or dreamless nights
I am there when you run out of all words and sounds
And no longer know what to say.

If you only know
The beauty bursting in your chest
You won’t lie in your couch, watching violence on TV

You would rather go out and dance
Beneath the night skies.
If you only know
The the beauty bursting in your chest.