The Weeds Poem by J.B. LeBuert

Along with the beautiful flowers,
The weeds are quickly spreading.
They are the scourge of the soil,
And the place, to which I am heading.

The time involved to get rid of them,
Is often more than I desire.
But, if you want beautiful gardens,
They will surely light your fire.

I don't like to use herbicide.
I hate to use poison at all.
To halt the pests, where flowers reside,
I'm pulling them, late into the Fall.

Mulch helps suppress the weeds.
I use it often, to aid my needs.
When they're gone, I rest easy.
When they return, I get queasy.