As if in moments lay plummets down which a puttering soul might stunningly plunge to a sun-splashed terrace in Marrakesh: tea so thick with mint it conjures kelp in a cylinder of sea but for the bees gauzing the top:
As if in moments lay plummets down which a puttering soul might stunningly plunge to a sun-splashed terrace in Marrakesh: tea so thick with mint it conjures kelp in a cylinder of sea but for the bees gauzing the top:
<iframe src="https://statesidedaily.com/embed/cluster/ff724a3009feebb7fc72c361a44045d74be8bb77" width="100%" height="320" style="border:0;max-width:680px" loading="lazy" title="“Drinking the Bees,” a Poem by Christian Wiman"></iframe>