Honeysuckle. Pith sponge innocence.
Corked bumps on a newborn bark.
Umbrella flowered, flat-topped charm,
Panicked panicles launch into bloom.
Like tempura, fluffed and segmented,
We treat the elderblow under low heat,
Not to deconstruct but to strengthen.
Mid summer hazes hue a dappled dew
Shades of deep purple and flicker desire.
Now trip the wooded path, rehang Judas,
Debranch a cluster and ring-a-rosie
Faery circles, where Elves fear Witches
And non-believers, as if in a dream,
Chanting "elder be ye Lady's tree..."
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