They chatter, chirping

in dialects from everywhere

You are right –

The are like birds

like magpies

They hide in rows of tea mazes

medieval European gardens 

where you could sneak in

for a nap

a tryst

a murder, perhaps

Back then, there were no drones

Every year when they come to the tea field to pluck leaves

It’s the dirtiest days 

of the mountain

Even filthier than the tourists,

They carry tissues, oranges, tea, and

candies and biscuits

up the slopes

This year, tea-pickers are clearly fewer

the landlord,

He grumbles

because of the pandemic

it is hard to find workers

Prices have gone up –

Letting alone the pickers

even groceries

have doubled in cost

Today’s taxi ride

it came with a one-yuan fuel surcharge

like buying a plane ticket

A plane

it crashes into soil,

carrying the screams of over a hundred people.

And now the roots and microorganisms

This morning

with the dew

greedily absorb it all

Rabbits eat grass

and grow flesh

plants eat flesh

and sprout buds

Officials eat people

Politicians eat land

Men eat women

History devours tears

I ate two eggs this morning

proof of my thriving metabolism

In rhythm with this spring

No symbolism here

just like enduring winters and summers

I sit before the eternal glow of  the computer

facing

the complexity of evil

reading the news

digesting the sins of fools

No mask required for this –

 the basic posture of a

commoner

with no need to wear a mask

protecting the spine, while surrendering

that so-called freedom

of writing and singing

(2022)