In Tall Grass
by Carl Sandburg

Bees and a honeycomb in the dried head of
a horse in a pasture corner —
a skull in the tall grass and a buzz
and a
buzz of the
yellow honey-hunters.
And I ask no better a winding sheet (over
the earth and under the sun).
Let the bees go honey-hunting with yellow
blur of wings
in the dome of my head, in the
rumbling, singing arch of my skull.
Let there be wings and yellow dust and the
drone of dreams of honey—
who loses and remembers?—who
keeps and forgets?
In a blue sheen of moon over the bones and
under the hanging honeycomb
the bees come home and the bees sleep.