An infiltration gardeners hate to meet
My box tree, once in pride of place, outside
Has suffered an attack, turned brown and died.
Although I water all my plants each day
Fierce sunshine this July has burnt its way
Through several fragile blooms; I am aghast
This never seemed to happen in the past.
In Belgium it's quite rare to not have rain
The grass along the tram tracks parched again
Sleeveless tops and sunhats flood the scene
Thoughts turn again to cold drinks and ice cream.
I poke my terrace pots and find more weeds
My wisteria invades; has trimming needs
More liquid fertilizer must be used ...
The result is many multi-coloured views.
Have the caterpillars gone? I must keep check
How they burrow in the soil I can't detect
But the butterflies and bees and birds have fun
So I sit and watch them busy in the sun!
(c) Poet in the woods 2018
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