Bugs in the Lawn
Bugs in our lawns, you have your place,
Please overlook it, if we shrivel our face
Upon seeing you; we know you are right
In dwelling down low, so keep to your plight.
On behalf of my species, I apologize,
For acting under sway of our orderly eyes,
In keeping our gardens so neat and tidy,
In using that lawn-mower, it's our 'duty', you see...
A discordant dance of mechanized forms,
Descending upon our silver frost lawns,
Spreading their stinking petroleum smell,
Slashing and cutting, a pre-harvest fell.
Leaving none taller than that notch always says,
Wire-blade under force of fuel, spins and it slays,
Paving our days with neat grounds and ordered paths,
Moulding the melody of our garden's sweet laughs.
The first inch is a shelter for all manner of bugs,
The second a war zone not safe, not even for slugs.
It's all done, the work, for the gardener's top pay,
Grass kept at level to the serpents' dismay.
Where will the wild world go,
When all the grass is shorter than a toe?
Where will our children know,
The many faces that Nature does seasonally show?
What's more, these days the lawn is plasticized,
Bought at the store for $19.99.
But I say such cents spent lack sense,
Earth cannot breathe under such imitation vents.
And bugs cannot eat those hydro-carbon polymers,
Without ending their days feeling sorry and worse,
And when bugs feel that way, at the end of the day,
How feel the birds that eat them and say:
"Oh these bugs taste like plastic,
On that green stuff that smells sick.
Oh I'd rather the lawn fed bugs any a day,
But now all those humans don't want it that way.
If only they'd learn, they'd save themselves fuss,
If they'd accept Nature's beauty, her natural rough,
They could live finely with us, in the greatest of field,
Eating all wild things, that She freely does yield."
Last edited by Fox of the Oaks
on 09 Oct 2010, 02:18, edited 1 time in total.