Flowers are a group of innocent kids
Frolicking all over the world
The sun is being serious
The wind blows bad news everywhere
Traffic lights guard the routes
Leading to spring
The sky wants to weep but fails
To shed a tear
Stepping to the beat of fluid dripping
They romp about
A needle activates
Every poison-carrying cell in the body
Calling out the life passion
From the plague-wasted days
Lines left by the dance movements
Wind up a stream of sunlight
The mobile cabin leaks someone’s
Fancy for Spring
There must be some spare money yet to be swiped
There must be pressing ringings
And a few short messages unreplied
Before realizing what happened
With nothing explained to him
He is gone
With a pair of lungs whitened by the virus
And a fate thinner than paper
Leaving his phone behind
Hence no more ties to life
When playing dirty
Coronavirus is cruel and vicious
Changing tricks
It lurks in the dark, invisible to the naked eye
And grabs the passers-by
Kissing them nonstop
With a mouthful of venomous teeth
And bites off
The lineage of many families
The sunlight rolls around in the wheat field
A draft sneaks into my hometown
Gnawing tender shoots and some petals
A satisfying burp
Bloats up dusk’s belly
A strayed snowflake
In the depth of night
Makes a feint shot
The sky looks gloomy and heavy
The epidemic sweeps
A patch of scenery off the map
The cold spell in late spring swoops on the weak
An old story recalled
A cotton face mask
Dodges the hastening wind
And alone, swallows a pledge
The cold wind turns its muzzle around
Pulls and drags
The hind leg of winter
Forsythia, the dealer
Plays the first card of spring
A swallow carries a rain drop in her bill
Hovering above
My hometown
Some morticians rush to Wuhan
To lend support
The epidemic of triple emergency
Like a bundle of dry firewood
Is thrown into the flaming stove
As if a beacon fire awakened in the dead of night
Taking off the old felt hat
Fires to the sky
A full cartridge of bullets hard-pressed in the rifle
Unbearable teardrops
One by one
Wet the spring sights outside the window
One, two
I count one by one
But always fail counting to 1767
Each figure added is a life lost
Whose eyes are wide open
Each counting
Is like a trip
To the gate of hell
A light lit in this world
Is suddenly snipped off
