The Garden Triumphs

The garden, with a mind of its own
at the best of times, has launched
itself into independence, scorning
my fruitless efforts to keep it neat
and tidy, free of unwanted visitors.
I must, I tell myself, exert my
authority, it is my garden, after all.
Is it? the garden sneers.

As though to spite me, the garden
welcomes and beckons aphids, slugs
caterpillars, worms and (horrors!)
earwigs and lily beetles to creep among
its beauties preferring the au naturel
appearance of torn and nibbled leaves
and petals. Clever weeds, mimicking
the very look and growth pattern of
my plants encouraged to invade.

I have been remiss, I groan,
permitting free reign to run amok.
Everything has become untidily
rampant. Excessive growth must be
tamed, snipped back to manageable
proportions. Mistress Nature, however,
has no intention of accommodating
my guilt-laden, stricken resolve.

Yesterday, secateurs in hand, my
determination wilted pitiably in the
overheated atmosphere as rivulets of
sweat saltily stung my eyes halting
the proceedings. And today as I
resolutely set out to weed the garden,
thunder rolled and lightning alternated
with darkness as torrents of rain
sent me swiftly houseward.