In the quiet hush of dawn’s first light,
Where dew-kissed leaves in silence lie,
A net of care lies soft and slight,
Its purpose clear beneath the sky.
A web of threads, so finely spun,
To catch the wanderers of night,
The slugs that creep as shadows run,
In search of greens by moon’s soft light.
Beneath its mesh, the creatures pause,
In labyrinths of silver sheen,
Where nature’s balance finds its cause,
In moments still, serene, and keen.
No more the bite of hungry jaws,
No more the gnaw on leaf and stem,
A gentle hand with careful laws,
Protects the garden's cherished gem.
And though the net may seem so small,
Its impact echoes through the day,
A guardian ‘neath the morning’s call,
Ensuring life in nature’s play.
So here’s to nets, both fine and grand,
To guardians of verdant dreams,
In fields and gardens, hand in hand,
Where hope and care weave through the seams.