Hapless invaders

sown in careless flight.

Too perfect in pitch

they shout their presence

and break the concentration

of my ripening tomatoes.

What’s not to love?

Eager to please

their pale downy greens

lift up lemon orange rays.

But try as they might

the parade is almost done —

the children, all sweaty and tired.

So to you, happy-go-lucky,

a little restraint now, please,

for the young and the old.

It is time to rest.