A poem by Mary Oliver

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In the afternoon I watchedthe she-bear; she was lookingfor the secret bin of sweetness -honey, that the bees storein the trees’ soft caves.Black block of gloom, she climbed downtree after tree and shuffled onthrough the woods. And thenshe found it! The honey-house deepas heartwood, and dipped into itamong the swarming bees - honey and combshe lipped and tongued and scooped outin her black nails, untilmaybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybea little drunk, and stickydown the rugs of her arms,and began to hum and sway.I saw her let go of the branches,I saw her lift her honeyed muzzleinto the leaves, and her thick arms,as though she would fly -an enormous beeall sweetness and wings -down into the meadows, the perfectionsof honeysuckle and roses and clover -to float and sleep in the sheer netsswaying from flower to flowerday after shining day.