We’ve had a few last, precious days of spring recently, in Florida. That only serves to remind us of the dreadful, thick, humid heat ahead. The spring plants seem to reflect this sentiment, and lose all motivation this time of year. Hope you will enjoy this poem, describing our sorry plight. Thanks for reading!
They’re dying all. They’re dying all.
My tender, tasty peas.
My collards and my broccoli
Now languish in the weeds.
The spring has gone, the summer come:
The blighted, blighted summer.
There’s not a man who can withstand
Such shining and such smother.
The greens grow bitter; flower and seed;
Once-dormant grass grows high;
Mosquitoes nip and irritate,
While deerflies plunge and bite.
We wrestle with invading weeds,
And stake tomatoes firm.
Spring bids farewell; the eggplant swells,
And at its feet, the worm.
Wee grasshoppers come marching in:
The wee soon turn to giant;
Green-yellow stripes jump through the din,
Consuming all; run riot.
Won’t some firm hand, some soft caress,
Some patient, whittling trim,
Come rescue this detestable mess,
Before we’re jungled in?
With thumbs of green, artistic depth,
And phrases Latinate:
Only a gardener’s footsteps
Can save us from our fate.
Copyright 2019 Andrea LeDew
For another feature of the summer garden, read Cicadas.