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.