This is the landscape I rule without a crown.
A yard beneath a canopy of mango leaves
where afternoon sun lingers
beneath the boughs, exposing where doves
choose to roost overnight.
This is my garden - morning light
gleams over an aqua pool,
refracts, as a breeze sends
dapples over a long row of palms.
I was the one to dictate the thick
summer planting of tall bamboo
persuaded by added privacy
on the dividing fence,
This is my world and I am
the impossible one who will decree
what is painted, what remains unpainted,
where the birdbath will sit,
or, what species to plant.
I rule this landscape that the sky
changes each moment,
but not the phrases of birdsong
that slip from every branch
or each petal that unfolds,