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Sitting on a garden wooden bench I made many years ago.  I hear the many birds that have made their home in my garden. I’m not afraid to sit on the bench for I made it strong like I was then. Now, time has robbed my once sleek body and left me with age spots, spindle legs, memory lost and weak knees.

Drinking my ice tea and listening to the buzzing of the bees
around my garden relaxes me. The industrious bees have been saving honey for winter. I no longer save my meager income for I don’t have time to earn dividends.

My black cat rubs against my leg and looks up with yellow eyes wanting to know why I’m not working in my garden. He doesn’t know about my weak knees. I stroke his slick fur and scratch his ears. He moves on looking for lizards.

I’m alone with my memories of yesterday that are slowly being erased by time.  Soon these thoughts will depart and follow my strength and eyesight to parts unknown to me.  A lonely breeze messes my few stands of hair on its way to another land. 

A mockingbird on a maple tree is mimicking songs from numerous other birds.  It has no song of his own but has learned to imitate sounds from the environment. They are like some individuals who have learned to be someone else other than themselves. 

The trees have vibrant new green leaves that wave to everyone who passes by. Oh heavens above, why can’t we renew ourselves like the trees and perennials? Are they worth more than us? Are we not more important than they are?

Judging from what I have seen these many years, the human race is really not better than what nature has created.

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