He seeks them here,
He seeks them there,
Mad growing plants everywhere.
A little rain,
A little sun,
Food for plants and all is done.
The verges around,
The wildflowers abound,
Dig a few up and plant elsewhere.
Elsewhere in my garden,
So to the farmers beg my pardon,
Cascading and portraying our summer sun evening.
Even in summer,
Our weather goes duller,
But tomorrows will come.
Second to none,
The next day has begun,
More flowers more colours,
Yet to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment