The Self-Aware Garden

My garden does its best to appear
nonchalantly unself-conscious ever since
it was chided by the Garden Muse
on its apparent pride in its presentation
as a landscape of transcendent beauty.
I have no need of modesty for my
garden but now it appears its own
subconscious cannot abide the charge
of ostentation brought against it
effectively damaging its self-esteem.
As chief gardener, I take exception
to the muse's unfair critique. But the 
garden has become so self-aware 
I must come upon it covertly, ever so
discreetly, affecting a casualness
artificial in its conceit. The object is
to surprise it in the very act of 
innocently displaying its natural beauty.
It is my considered opinion that the
garden should be preening in pride
flaunting the architecture of its sublime
presence, a secret delight of a micro
Eden whose scent, form, texture and
colour tease my senses in the reality
of its nature-endowed essence, an
affirmation of life and grace unmatched
by any human agency aspiring to tame 
to perfection an attempt at verisimilitude
reflecting nature's impeccable design.