Awakening
In my garden, the only place I thrive
there lives a tiny bird who keeps me alive
If others enter, little bird flies away
But near by me, he seems to love to stay
He makes a sound like a click on a switch,
took me many days to tune to his pitch
He rests tiny feet on wire tomato cages
or on bamboo poles that gather sages
He seems to be telling me little bird tales
about cabbages, carrots, and dark-green kales
There are carrots and radishes almost grown,
and peas from seeds most carefully sown
Beans are blooming, cucumbers are crawling
toward any stick where they hear the sun calling
My garden will feed many of us through the summer
blessed by a clicking bird rather than a hummer
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