The Shaken Tree

Midriff mildew stings
A hair-foot giant flower bee;
Seven counties in her wings,
Nests in embers we foresee.

A female blackbird black won’t give,
We trapped her willow wanderings;
She stole the roads, the pheasants live,
When murders end, so too detectives.

A company of wigeons
Fed seeds beside the streams,
Wreaked havoc on decisions,
Commuting coughs in web-foot dreams.

In the river there lived a spirit,
A translucent Naiad, butter-blue,
Now the water she will not visit,
Her body turned to wood for fuel.

There is no taking from nature
Without nature keeping track;
Wild boars will measure the failure
When they bring the forests back.

 

The title is taken from a Chinese expression, “to shake the tree and feel the wasp sting”, written as:
搖樹,感到黃蜂刺痛

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