To All Slugs In The Grass
My gardening debut will be on morrow morn
when this field and thy home shall together be shorn.
At seven precise, while dew on the grass
still glistens, my rotors will merciless pass;
And if you would escape the unfeeling blade
where ‘tween lawn and slug no distinction is made,
Then heed thou this edict, my slippery friends
for on vacancy then your existence depends…
And publish it wide, from Slug King to Slug Peasant
that shunning advice would be naught but unpleasant.
Be blessed, I have oft been acquainted with pain
and I have no desire to render thee twain,
As groundsmen before me who came without warning
and clogged up their mowers with thee in the morning.
Now leave slimy trails, and freedom pursue;
Make haste, lest at seven, thou be snipped in two…
And forgive in advance my disturbing your sod.
I pray for thy safety, commit thee to God
Who alone knows I have no intention to kill…
and as for my own soul, I pray that I will
Receive His forgiveness, if any be torn.
Now “Away, get thee hence!” and with these words I warn.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2006