You were the story that snuck through. You brought us hope, sweetness, and it felt as if the rains had come after years of drought. Back then, we only had room for a few stories, or so we thought, or so we'd been told. You came to us on the wings of honey bees, through the soft iridescence of moonlight, by song and by heartbeat. When we looked down you were written on our open palms.

When you snuck through, we recognized you immediately. Arms became gentle and open and we rested in each other. We spent hours anointing our bodies with honey and oils. We wondered, we listened, we spoke what was needed. For healing. For the grass and the stars and our feet and our bellies. Every one saw what the land had given and we would lie on the ground, saying thank you thank you thank you, sometimes for 5 days straight. 

When you came, the sun never set, and the moon didn't either- honey, when you arrived the sky was lit with a million stars.