vibrantly green, fragrant and strong,
fruit bursting with juicy deliciousness,
sweet as a nightingale’s song.
I worked my fingers to the bone
planting seeds on that cold Spring day,
joyous in my anticipation of the
savory taste coming my way.
But, alas, the rabbits ate all the leaves,
gray, bushy squirrels ate all the fruit,
sly, fat, arrogant woodchucks
ate the rest, those tough old coots.
As I view this hateful destruction,
I rage at the roots upon the floor,
whereas now when I crave juicy tomatoes,
I must drive to the nearest store.