Peril Sonnet

Where do you suppose

they’ve gone the bees now

that you don’t see them
anymore four-winged

among flowers     low
sparks in the clover

even at nightfall
are they fanning have

they gone another
place blued with pollen

stuck to their bristles
waiting beyond us

spring dwindle is what
we call it collapsing

“high levels in pneu-

matic corn exhaust”
loss of habitat

or disappearing
disease in the way

of our kind      so to speak
what do you think

they would call it
language older than

our ears were they
saying it all along

even at daybreak —
More Poems by David Baker