They

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To the squirrel who pilfered
To the rabbit who skulked
I stand by my poison pen

Gone be the peaches I nurtured since spring
Struck down, the sweat-sown echinacea

The day-long and long night, again and again
The witnesses to the crimes against friend

But rather than hate, abate, terminate

I give gratitudinous nod
To berry, bean, basil

And rose

See, me and my pen
Befriend, overcome

Thus, conquering peskiest pests

Processor

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It was as simple a thing as pesto
The green of it
The freshness of it
The scent, that, make no mistake,
Made me forget the difficult bridge
I’d thought to jump from
But instead crossed, then burned
On purpose
For good