I Kept Writing

The bushes moved closer to see what I was writing. I could feel them peering over my shoulder. One of them lost a baby leaf that slid down my back. It tickled, but I dared not move, knowing they would leave. I smiled at the shade they were giving me. Three bushes I had planted myself years ago. As magical as the enchanted trees in my forest. Many of them I had also planted. Let’s give her room, one whispered, Realizing I was on to them. I kept writing, pretending they were not alive