Of snails…

 

Silver trails as evidence seen

a love of dainty salad leaves

and easy eating greens

tracing their routes

as they stalk tender shoots

then leave, in shady hiding places

tiny snails as small as baby’s fingernails

to carry on their genes

 

Nightime in moonlit moisture

shines the progress thru the pasture

of a gliding acrobatic mollusc

swinging on leaf bridges at dusk

to dainty palm-pot-delicacies

copper tape no challenge for sure

to this bold pseudo pod who,

one foot in the door

 

will then renew

that very night

it’s slippery rampage through

your favourite botanical delights,

on which a deal of money has been spent

(those recommended by the RHS

especially,) and shun abundant weeds

however succulent

 

…and slugs

and why they never eat those weeds

but the tasty morsels you’ve grown from seed

and other delicacies they find near ponds

your pretty ferns with lacy fronds

on which they feast voraciously and merely

leave to view the disgusting residue

of a major sluggy comfort feed

 

slug bombards the tender greenery

maliciously munching on the scenery

what’s left behind for you and me

is little but it’s tell-tale slime

and a decimated border hell

while the snail takes shelter

in it’s mobile home from home

retreating quickly to it’s shell

 

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2 Responses to Of snails…

  1. Stefanie says:

    With deepest sympathy … from a fellow gardener!
    I absolutely love these poems. You nailed it wonderfully – if you can “nail” slugs and snails 🙂 . Also love the atmospheric picture at the top.

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