Yard Work

Last summer, instead of mowing and doing the yard work I started writing a poem about the benefits of not mowing and doing yard work

Yard Work

He looks a fat finger above the green and dandelions
  under a pointed peak,
  his face a black thumb print,
  with a nail yellow beak,
With which he pecks at crickets and grubs
  to feed his fledgling flock,
  those quiet now but soon squabbling nestlings in the shrub,
Thus, as a blessing for him, we’ll lay no grub killers in our yard
  for so we welcome the Cardinal

True the dandelions may have made our yard invalid
   yet the Woodchuck brings an appetite for salad,
She’s that same Whitey B, who once notoriously
  slept in on straight through Groundhog Day,
Now she moves her head from head to head
  consuming leaf and seed and shred,
And so too are we blessing her, all weed killers we'll defer
  as landlords we deign ‘Whitey, feed you free…’

In Bun-Rab haven births last year
  increased them by great numbers dear,
Where each of last years bucks and does
  raised at least two litters, maybe more,
Thus when Winter snows buried lawn and fodder
  the rabbits raised last seasons’ girdle mark,
By foot long barks on our euonymus stalks
Yet to contemplate the damage done,
   I do not hate them, not a one
So we’ll bar the poachers from our place
  and grant Bun-Rab’s a blessed grace
While I admire the Coyotes’ trace
  as he spies the deer red conies run,
  silhouetted in the setting sun