The old churchyard is where I faded
She watched me while I fell unaided
And in my time
When God's army came and got me
I could not find my honeycom

Cherry-brown lips of maple
Olive creams her eyes and face were
And in that town
Where I walk as a deserter
I could not find my honeycom

Dance for God, dance for mating
The ritual of her figure-eighting
And in my mind
As I fly above the churchyard
I could not find my honeycomb