Feast of the Conquerors

A Summers Ballet at the Buffet

In our quaint garden, a buffet stands, Hostas waving their leafy hands. Beneath the summer's golden gleam, Begins a feast, a bug's daydream.

Striped invaders, armored in hues, Start their banquet in morning dews. Nibbling here, munching there, Hosta leaves in the open air!

Once green and smooth, now tattered lace, A badge of honor, worn with grace. In the garden's whimsical play, Every creature has its day.

But wait! Dear bugs, please hear my plea, Can't you feast on another tree? Spare our hostas, oh, noble knights, Let them bask in summer's lights.

It's a garden's whim, a gardener's woe, In this relentless, silent show. Yet in this dance, so finely tuned, plant life's whimsy is forever pruned.