The pulse of life beats strong,
beset by all that is wrong.
Animals prey in the yard at night,
entering as we lose the light,
to eat the crops and uproot the flowers,
creating destruction hour by hour.
Every effort seems for naught.
Undermining all we’ve been taught.
No respect for decades of effort
to create a safe space for all who enter,
a space free of willfulness, woes and want;
a space where diversity and beauty abound,
where seeds breed and reseed in dark ground
so readily that we forget the dangers around
every corner, and under every rock.
It is imperative to finally take stock.
To pay attention to those lurking in the dark.
To those who would steal our garden’s wealth
with deceit, lies and stealth.
Single spotlights, motion sensors for lights,
individual porch lights and flashlights
have not been enough to stop the raccoons and skunks.
The unseen predators who hide beneath
that which bloomed from our labors,
until we finally notice what has been lost.
We cannot count the cost
although we desperately try.
Our pulse beats strong as we cry.
I think we have found a solution
to the critters who invade like pollution,
unsightly, unseen, willingly mean.
Faerie lights of all colors with patternless pulse
strung throughout the yard, across every row
where our treasured plants grow
threatening with uncertainty those who prey
as dark nights take over our days.
On at dusk, off at first light.
We have finally set our garden aright.
The pulse of life beats strong
with each push of the button on voting machines
the faerie lights come on.
