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