<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">A nice new article :</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">http://www.urbanitebaltimore.com/sub.cfm?%20issueID=58&sectionID=4&articleID=879</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">sam</font>
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Sam Droege Sam_Droege@USGS.GOV
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w 301-497-5840 h 301-390-7759 fax 301-497-5624<br>
USGS Patuxent Wildlife Research Center<br>
BARC-EAST, BLDG 308, RM 124 10300 Balt. Ave., Beltsville, MD 20705<br>
Http://www.pwrc.usgs.gov</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">Falling Asleep in a Garden </font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">All day the bees have come to the garden.<br>
They hover, swivel in arcs and, whirling, light<br>
On stamens heavy with pollen, probe and revel<br>
Inside the yellow and red starbursts of dahlias<br>
Or cling to lobelia's blue-white mouths<br>
Or climb the speckled trumpets of foxgloves.</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">My restless eyes follow their restlessness<br>
As they plunge bodily headfirst into treasure,<br>
Gold-fevered among these horns of plenty.<br>
They circle me, a flowerless patch<br>
With nothing to offer in the way of sweetness<br>
Or light against the first omens of evening.</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">Some, even now, are dying at the end<br>
Of their few weeks, some being born in the dark,<br>
Some simply waiting for life, but some are dancing<br>
Deep in their hives, telling the hungry<br>
The sun will be that way, the garden this far:<br>
This is the way to the garden. They hum at my ear.</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">And I wake up, startled, seeing the
early<br>
Stars beginning to bud in constellations.<br>
The bees have gathered somewhere like petals closing<br>
For the coming of the cold. The silhouette<br>
Of a sphinx moth swerves to drink at a flowerhead.<br>
The night-blooming moon opens its pale corolla.</font>
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<br><font size=2 face="sans-serif"> - David Wagoner</font>
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