Big blooms of hibiscus, bright red blotches,
Magnify themselves at the corner of our deck, 

While brown-eyed susans leapfrog the neighborhood

And pink-purple phlox run riot across the neighbors’ patches

As if by some God-given right. 

This can only end in profusion.

And what are we to do—we pitiful, scanty beings?

Things are getting out of hand.

Blessings,

Larry F. Sommers

Your New Favorite Writer