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The trees have fallen from their flowers,
thousands of them
swarming the ground as dead bees
waiting
to rot.

The flowers remained hung from air
where once green branches had swirled
to support them.

The scene looked like a crayon drawing
of a small girl who had forgotten
to attach trees to the flowers.

A sudden gust of wind
made few tiny branches cartwheel,
and the heavier trunks
to mellow down in marshy waters.

There was a scorch of insects and birds
knowing not what to do.

The wood never pollinates.

S---

a little sweet and passive.

Oscar Wilde adds movement and tension to his description:

The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the black-crocketed spires of the early June hollyhocks, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive, and the dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.


bernie

I agree with you, Bernie. The language here is passive, unlike the Oscar Wilde's excerpt you have quoted. But come to think of it, this passiveness had come from surrendering myself to the nature, and hence the rather undermined language. Let me see how I can absolve your suggestions and rewrite it...

Thank you.

I lived in London once, Oscar certainly knew London that description is spot on.
and the dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

To me it makes no sense to say trees have fallen from their flowers, it paints a picture of flowers hanging in the air and thousands of trees laying on the ground. Maybe that your intent.

The last lime points our the obvious: 'The wood never pollinates.' But why you would say that I have no idea.

That's it.