Thursday, 18 November 2021

poem 190

 

Where the bee dance, there dance I 

In expanse of a bells lie; 

There I couch, when silent spring crys. 

On chemicals back, see all dye

After summer gross profit .   

Merrily, merrily shall capitalist live 

But Under the blossom, hangs Mother Earth 

on that bough so high 






https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2021/nov/18/bee-harming-pesticides-exported-from-eu-after-ban-on-outdoor-use

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silent_Spring

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