Tunnel Moth

upon my citrons, eggs you lay,

your task is done, you fly away

but soon the offspring hatch and grow,

they eat in joy , the leaves they claw,

in quick succession, take their toll,

they burrow tunnels , like a mole,

incipid streaks of sickly white,

the wilted leaves are your delight.

and so my fruit trees will not bear,

no orange lime, no peach nor pear,

i will not feast, no fruit survive,

there is no hope while you’re alive.

because of balance you don’t care,

i sought out ways for to ensnare.

the gardening shop , i stand in line,

you’re menace, great, is naught but mine,

the kindly expert said that, lo,

there are ways to make you go.

a neurotoxin, sharp and strong

that caterpillers never know what’s wrong,

alas, this method has a fault,

it causes birds to fail to molt,

and they will sadly cease to sing

and so i shun this vile toxin.

but wait and hear, he cried of what,

more than one way to skin a cat.

and speaking so of cats and skin,

he told of treatments new , with grin.

it seems that labcoats far away,

have found a method for to slay,

the new emulsion seeps through root,

and rises up the trunk and shoot.

it stays in action for a while,

eliminate all insects, small and vile,

but fear not, friend, he told me thus,

the birds will live, they make no fuss,

the poison works and fades not ’fore,

it killed you off, and by the score.

in every part you dare to tread ,

the skin you have, you can not shed,

it sticks on you, this unshed skin,

it leaves your caterpillers all but thin.

and caught up so, they will not fly,

and undeveloped , they will die,

and i will shed no tear, nor cry,

for such a menace butterfly.

and best of all, we’ll eat and feast,

the birds on you, and me on peach!

and peace will reign , my problems solve,

until at least that you’ll evolve,

so dine this year, on my poor tree

and soon i shall of you be free.