Buzzing - Sonnet 40

I first heard chirping in the willow tree

In days when I was young, not long ago

When bells had rung and I was left to be;

And as the leaves fell through the fog and snow,

Though I emerged, a little older now,

The world has changed for reddened, weathered eyes

That now survey the landscape that the plow

Has trodden. As they grace the midday skies,

My brush with these melodious, warbling tunes

Are sorely limited to one apiece

The more within my life; in many noons

From now, my spirit may be more at peace.

Then, at the last, before I bow to die,

I hope to hear them calling one last time.