A Few Minutes In the Garden
I was in my garden the other day,
watching the squirrels running at play.
Chasing each other seemed such a lark,
running up the Oak tree as held on to its bark.
Birds were chirping their songs of glee,
although I never understood the melody.
But sing they did from tree to tree,
there sat I, like it was meant for me.
I looked over at the flower patch,
something fluttering my eye did catch.
It was only a small white butterfly,
I watched its dance...then it flew by.
A chipmunk came out of its hole to bask in the sun,
just for a few moments and then it was done.
He scolded me that I'd been rude,
not leaving any peanuts for his daily food.
I reached in my bag and tossed him a few,
A Blue jay saw them and down he flew.
Now the chipmunk chirped at the jay,
but to no avail, he was there to stay.
The jay finally left with a large peanut in its beak,
Leaving behind only scattered bits the chipmunk could seek.
He checked each shell the jay left behind,
Until he found a few morsels he could take in kind.
Then to his hole again he ran,
his gatherings that day were far from grand.
While my few minutes in the garden were brief,
they've stuck to me like a book pressing a leaf.
The sights, the sounds, even the scents I recall,
vivid in my memory...one and all.
For there in my garden I had nothing to say,
except, "Thank you Lord, for this beautiful day".
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2017
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