My Garden

Pottering in the garden,
Talking to the flowers.
Pulling weeds and cutting grass
Gives me many happy hours.

Watching seeds that I have sown
Break slowly through the soil.
Unfurling tiny tender leaves,
As they upwards toil.

Waiting for the frost to cease
And the earth to come alive.
As bees wake from their winter sleep
And venture from their hive.

To see the wondrous butterfly,
Emerge from its cocoon,
It stretches wings up to the sun,
Then it’s gone; too soon.

It’s my ecological oasis,
My haven; my retreat;
It’s where I love to sit and watch
All the wildlife meet.

by Brian Joseph Dickenson

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