Harvest that sweet nectar from my white tree,
a delicate taste of floral and spice,
smooth and buttery on your lips and tongue,
blossoming in the valleys of Georgia

My bloom window comes but for a short time
as we labor during spring to produce
my amber honey, pastoral and fair,
sweet as sugar, golden-green, raw, and rare.

Growing quiet as labor turns to love,
our passion sealed with sticky fingers,
we revel over the vigor and skill—
the romance that is tupelo honey.

Photo by Art Rachen on Unsplash

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