It is the haziest of lovely summer
days, the sun and the clouds
treating the sky above, the landscape
below to alternating games of shy
and gentle peek-a-boo. Butterflies
lazily graze the tops of shrubs
and bees dip into floral pollen.
From neighbours' yards come the
sounds of water, children, exuberant
expressions of unadulterated joy.
I wander in fresh delight of my garden
revealing its daily gifts from nature to me.
My very own prized and hidden places where
treasures abound to suddenly, surprisingly,
so tenderly and mischievously leap into
view like children invested in exciting
themselves by gaining delighted notice of
doting grandparents through brilliantly
audacious exploits to burnish their image
in the fond eyes of their fervent admirers.
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