I GREW A CARROT. I GREW A FLOWER.

12/1/2016

When serene gardens shed blood.

I grew a carrot. I grew a flower
As two rutted in the power-swells of nature.
I held a seed of a grocer in my hands
As I dug a hole
In my claim of land.

She push and dropped her seeded fawn
As she struggled all along, dragging her load
Grasped by Mother-Earth
As I tended my hoe in man-made dirt.

Spindly legs wobbled in planet-life
As my green strands broke the yellow straw.
Then she nudged and licked her fawn, as I
Flicked the grubs from what I had sown.

I grew a carrot. I grew a flower
As Doe and Fawn nibbled nature’s
Power from the carotene tops,
Not to be eaten by me. It stops!

So I ranted and raved at what nature does best
Because they invaded my garden-nest.
So thus, amidst their contribution to real life
I proposed the ending of their natural life.

I grew a carrot. I grew a flower.
I possess nature’s power.

2 Comments

Frances Drabick link

11/27/2016 09:04:45 am

Eastport has (they say without real stats given) an overrun of deer. Hunters with bow & arrow are allowed to hunt in this tiny space. Many do not seek permission and many hunt illegally ignoring regulations around residential areas.. I chased one male off my property at 9 PM one night in October 2016. I have no issue with real hunters, that hunt in real woods and forest. I admire capable, and experienced hunters. I know several, both men and women. But true hunting does not exist in Eastport, Maine. The people who kill deer, now Does included, are shooting fish in a barrel. They had a regular hunting season that pretty much has left fawns grouping now. Now the hunters will be given 2 MORE weeks to kill what Does are left during two of what is considered HOLY WEEKS for numerous citizens... mid to the end of December. It bothers me when in a season of PEACE on Earth, I will see trails of blood on the ground. I am weary of killing when there are other means to control a deer population. It is just easier to just kill these days. A local feed-store owner who has hunted for decades has told me he would never hunt in Eastport. That it was not true sport, or true hunting. It's like shooting the local dogs. True. With all the arrows flying very soon, I hope they do not hit the two-legged creatures who love to walk about, thinking they are in a safe place. As far as deer and cars, obeying the speed limit would be a great practice.

Frances Drabick

2/5/2017 05:48:53 pm

For anyone reading this poem, I am not the gardener in the poem... and the photos of the deer are from my yard.

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I GREW A CARROT. I GREW A FLOWER.

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