Garden Pests

That time of year again - when sanity silently strays to shade.

Sun slips the bolt- allowing tools to blossom from dust.

Gathering the growth of green- by the rake, by the spade.

Back bent and bowing must- as skin stiffly turns to rust.

To my left - the suburban yuppie wears Jesus sandals and idly

Waters a concrete path with hopes of it growing into a patio.

Garden cowboy tending his range; mobile phone hung six-gun style

From hip - sporting new Texas tools and calling me Daddy-O.

On the right - your guess as good as mine. Hawthorn lovers

Hide light and sight, as family X let you know they’re about.

Whoever hovered undercover in the evening ? Obscurity covers

Their baffled aims.  To keep insiders in,..or outsiders out?

The avenue comes to life (and death), as the drone of mowers

Blend with charred meat wafting on the breeze. A barbecue? Or,

Is  Rhoda slightly toasting in her Factor 10?

Unfolding deckchair and bikini again?

Beauty is penalised by warmth; sun selling short-sightedness as

Bulk battles dwarfed denim. A two-pronged shock of legs pass

All pink and sun-proud.  Plastic table and chairs - not forgetting

Flowery sunshade - to swan and swat as ice cracks in the glass.