The Feast

Originally posted 7/27/2013.

For each guest,
a gift of honey in a small jar.  

Broad leaves for plates, laden
with sticky-starchy rice, a bed for 

cloud-white fish, steamed
and spiced. Tumblers

of cool juices, a good wine
of humble provenance

in a thick-walled carafe.
Unfamiliar fruits

placed within reach
to be eaten at leisure.  

Then I woke. This all became
a fading dream.

Ten minutes later, cannot recall
the perfect conversation

that accompanied the feast, do not know
the name of One who sat across from me

and made me feel small and
full of future as if I were a seed.

I remember no words, but dimly recall
the taste of that fruit,

how the honey in glass
glowed in the sunset, 

how much I wanted
to call that place home.