The Tale of blue honey

It's summer.
The sun is high up and blazing hot.
The little magic mushrooms that used to appear
in the cow pastures down the road have dried up and gone away.

For that matter so has your grass connection,
and all that you're left with is sandpaper leaf
that leaves a static edge on your head.

The mellow highs of the rainy season
are now just so many jasmine-of-your-mind memories.
Dreams from another time.

The butterfly mushroom that opened the doors of perception
in the springtime are but lost keys in the heat of summer.

You tried drying the little fungi,
but the magic is lost in the process,
and freezing turns them to mush.

What to do?

The answer comes to us born on the winds of time.
Kosmic, karmic trade winds from an ancient Mayan past.

To save the magic, all one needs to do is immerse those morsels
in raw honey and stash them in a cool, shady place,
and let osmosis do its thing.

The honey will first turn amber,
then a deep blue-black color
indicating that the honey has become psychoactive.

At this point it is time to strain out the mushrooms from the honey.
Use the mushrooms to make a psychedelic snack,
And store the honey in a tightly capped glass jar.

The honey has now taken on the magic,
and properly stored will retain it for several months.

Come summer when the mushrooms have
disappeared from the field, it doesn’t matter.

There, in the cupboard, is the honey pot,
full to the brim with "Blue Honey"
Shades of Pooh Bear and Van Morrison.

A couple of teaspoons in your tea or coffee,
and one or two to sweeten your cinnamon toast,
and its time to keep an appointment with God.