The red tomatoes, heavy on the vine,
Now bow and sway beneath the gusting breeze.
The flimsy tents, a shelter once so fine,
Collapse and buckle 'mongst the leafy trees.

The snails, in desperate flight, a slimy trail,
Seek refuge from the wind's relentless might.
They climb the stems, their efforts soon to fail,
As leaves are torn in day's departing light.

The garden groans, a verdant, troubled scene,
Where hope and havoc wrestle for control.
The gardener sighs, though still serene,
And waits for dawn to mend the garden's soul.

Tomorrow's sun will dry the dampened earth,
And coax new life from soil of proven worth.

Tomaž Jevšenak