read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

September 28, 2012

OBLIGATORY POST-OP GARDEN DIATRIBE

The mid-autumn leaves
And some crisp wind to zoom us
Nobody bereaves
Whilst said leaves turn to humus!

The humus with fungi
Commence thus to flirt
Me? Sated, this one guy
Ends up with black dirt!

Black dirt will not harden
When mixed up with sand
Slap it on the garden
Oh, savor this land!

Black dirt, sand and sun
But donít ever forget
That itís often not fun
But rewarding?
You bet!

But now, oh, green thumbs
With those fingers youíve fed
So plop in these mums
Put the garden to bed!

-The Garden committee