Don't the Bees Realize

Rough winds are sporting;
Clouds chase the sun, lilacs bow,
Shadows come and go.

Now it's dark and cold;
Sun breaks through with warming light.
Each step--mystery.

Field of blue flowers
Ripple as if they are one.
Wind is dance master.

Now the lilacs bloom;
Small purple flowers open
To the waiting sun.

Shadows on the sign
Blur and sharpen in their turn
And then disappear.

Black ghost on a pole
Peeks out as I wander past,
Then pulls back and leaves.

Two patches of white:
Dandelion puffs are here;
New asters are there.

Just why did the bird
Cross the road, pecking, strutting,
When it could have flown?

Yellow metal bug:
Front end loader poised off road;
Waiting for its prey.









It's cloudy again;
How many times has it been
In only one hour?









Huddle of white buds
Bent as if they are talking.
Wind interrupts them.

Don't the bees realize
How sweet the purple flavor
Of lilac honey?