Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Home: Honey From the Comb
I grew up where the seagulls circled overhead and oyster shells crunched under car tires on our long shell driveway.
I knew nutcrackers were for eating crabs and shrimp belonged in omelets at breakfast.
I knew the welcome of the live oaks that twisted their way in divergent directions toward centuries.
Who can blame the Spanish moss for embracing such outstretched arms?
I knew that most people's jogging routes didn't include a gulf of saltwater and a lighthouse.
I knew not to take it all for granted.
In hindsight, I did.
It's rather impossible not to.
One who is full loathes honey from the comb,
but to the hungry, even what is bitter tastes sweet.
Photo Credits: Mike González, who is visiting my hometown without me this week.
Lighthouse by Adrian González, who is finding songwriting inspiration in my old haunts.