Get your plastic grass fantastic,
Is the market
trader’s cry.
No more mowing,
no weeds showing,
No hosepipe bans
apply.
No daisy roots,
fill your boots,
Lay it instead of
turf.
Always green,
looks pristine,
And it doesn’t
cost the earth.
Except the
faking, in the making,
Creates yet more
emissions.
The planet heats,
there’s less to eat,
Soon it’s drought
conditions.
Then contemplate,
as folk pass your gate,
On the foodless
road to famine.
Your square of
green, will be seen,
Not so much
smart, as damning.
[Poem - 22 September 2023]
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