The power of poetry

In My Garden
I don’t go into my garden.
I look at it from my window.
In my garden there are
birds, animals, trees and flowers.

Wood pigeons strut and coo right
next to the squirrels.
There is a special pigeon who maybe
nesting in a tree.
Taking a twig from one tree
to another.

The squirrels (grey not red)
love my pine tree.
There are many cones, they eat part of each
cone, they eat a lot.

In the bottom of my
neighbour’s garden
there is a huge willow tree.
In the spring, parakeets settle on it.
Just that tree – nowhere else.

I see them from my window.

And the foxes – they love my garden –
lie in the sun.
Sometimes they look at me and I look back.
It is a good garden.
There are no children and no dogs or cats.
Only me, looking from the window.
Just them, and me.
We are still friends.

LC, 2013