All night

 I shall labour,

   as fast as

    I'm able. 

   I'll beautify

    your paving,

     paint your

 lawn, with

 silvery

   messages

       of hope

         and joy.

           I'll sculpt

            as many

             leaves

              as I can

              reach

            (which

          will be a

          large and

         most

      surprising

     number)

   to make

 exquisite

filigrees,

through

which

 the moon

  may shine,

   the rosy

    morning

     gleam. 

      At last,

     exhausted,

      I shall seek

        my bed

          in the cool

            damp

               beneath

                the shed. 

                I ask no

                 thanks,

                  no praise -

                only that

                you pause

           a while,

      reflect

   upon my

 work and

 smile.

A Slug.

X    X