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A New Compost Heap ©

by Hamish M Anstruther
Scotland
2003
On completely re-building the compost heap, which had been an eyesore for years, and after many promises to my wife that one day I would get around to it.

Dancing beech leaves of varying brown,
Long blades of pampas grass wrap around
My arms; their sharp edges cut my hands,
Trying to spread their unruly strands.

Piles of grass clippings, perfumed green,
Banana skins and a haricot bean,
Prunings from shrubs and an onion skin,
Hundreds of weeds and dead-heads go in.

Sprinkle each layer with some water,
Add to that an accelerator.
And here and there some chippings of wood,
How can this do the plants any good?

Leave that to Nature - as in the past,
For I've kept the best bit to the last.
Rock-solid structure - built like a moat,
Four by four stanchions, lashed with creosote.

Sculpted from trees, grown in a thicket.
To get a view; please buy a ticket.
We could be rich from this great event;
It's the parable of the talent!

What a design! A sight for sore eyes!
The wife's happy! I tell you no lies!
Built at a cost of blood, sweat and tears;
One consolation - it will last for years!


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