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
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019