A Sacrament

A dear friend and spiritual sister sent me this poem for my birthday this year. (She is not the poet. The poet is an Oregon poet laureate.) It is one of the loveliest presents I have ever received.

A Sacrament

Become that high priest,

the bee. Drone your way

from one fragrant

temple to another, nosing

into each altar. Drink

what’s divine –

and while you’re there,

let some of the sacred

cling to your limbs.

Wherever you go

leave a small trail

Of its golden crumbs.

In your wake

the world unfolds

its rapture, the fruit

of its blooming.

Rooms in your house

fill with that sweetness

your body both

makes and eats.

--Paulann Petersen