Wren's Garden
She sang a wonderful enchanting melody
notes that echoed through the motionless trees
while in a stationary pause for just a moment scant,
she resumed her song as if it were a prayerful chant;
she glanced up and down, left and right, brown eyes dancing
then a skip, a hop, a bounce, then slow walking,
crunching dried leaves beneath her tiny feet
off to the sides along the cool grassy edge out of the heat;
she gleaned the view of multitudes of flowers renewed
familiar spring budding, now in full bloom,
probing roses, peonies, irises in wafting perfume,
bobbing she rushed to dabble her feet on waterfall stones,
the garden seemed to speak her name
calling out to her, drawing her interest and attention
that soon waned in more pensive somber thoughts,
scanning fluffed puffed clouds up high and deep blue azure sky;
enough she thought - if only I could fly
then in recognition of her place with God's grace
she stretched her feathered wings and softly fluttered
taking swift flight up and away
she could not stay
but would return again
the little wren remembered well
the garden of her birth.
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