0079

the garden in the middle of the place where nothing cares about the name,
seeing the beetle run across a leaf with more doing the same,
as a moth or butterfly floats with the wind to who knows where,
with a bee travelling back with pollen to share,
a speck of dust here and small drops of rain,
nothing to worry about you worms in the drain,
fumes of exhaust surround this garden of living pests,
with grasshoppers jumping and caterpillar groups infests,
thank you mayor of the town for putting plants in the round-a-bout,
not native at all and cant see through to out,
as humans like their foreign food to eat,
so do bugs and pests which it is a nice treat,
employ someone or two to come bad trim it back,
then they get bitten by a mutated native bug that lays eggs in their fat.