Why Burn Stump Buzz Cut

The tree is round, like the world is rude
But harmless cuts are love to others
The clown was a mess, but his mark was true
And as much as he grew, the tree couldn’t cover
Carved in a heart the gothic letters MG
The burn-stump bark lonely under thick scar tissue.
Hung from her nest the benevolent Queen Bee
Didn’t slip a clue what conclusions she drew.
The cut of MG, the sharp lettering glow
The thick summer buzzed questions under her wing
What haven’t I figured that the tree does know?
What are my letters? Is the king still King?
Where was I when these marks were made?
The MG in the heart, on the tree in the shade.