We once thought that we could
bottle up all of the nectar
of the honeysuckle bush
along the fence.
we could take back
all of the summers that the flowers
watched us grow
and hide their sweetness in mason jars
beside our dimming glasses of fireflies.
Each day, we would sit in the dirt
drawing the liquid from the bud
and wonder how much we’d need
to hold us over until next summer.
There was never enough.