It was a beautiful summer day
With a soft little breeze.
So, I went out in my yard
Spoke with the bushes and trees.
They spoke to me
With their shimmering leaves
And their tiny twig arms
As they danced in the warm breeze.
I asked if they needed more water.
They replied, they had gotten a lot.
I should cut back on the sprinklers.
Didn't want their roots to rot.
Then some patches of grass
Made some advances.
Said they needed more sun.
Could I trim the tree branches?
The sparrows returned.
Asked me to get rid of the pigeons.
Said they were hogging the seed
And had weird beliefs and religions.
I was getting discouraged
When a mantis caught my eye.
Asked me not to spray.
It caused all the aphids to die.
After such a strange dream,
Not sure if I'll talk to nature again.
With the complaints and concerns.
Might just as well - talk with men.
YOU ARE READING
Stories and Poems Written from the Garden
PoetryA friend of mine suggested that instead of organizing what I write chronologically that I do so by topic. This book contains short stories and poems written from the garden.
