My Backyard

The wind plays tag with the plump birds in the trees.
Chasing them from this branch to that branch.
Catching them unaware and laughing as they mutter noisily amongst themselves.

The roses bloom all about me.
Pouring their scent onto the dancing zephyrs.
Hearing the confessions of the bees in exchange for cast off pollen.

The grass grows yet another inch.
Hiding stealthy weeds from the abandoned hoe.
They shake their leaves at the cringing lawnmower, at the rake hiding in the garage.

The dog lies just within my reach.
Looking over to see if I am still breathing.
As I take his advice, and nap under the still green tree, growing in my backyard.

This work inspired by, and written for, Sunday Scribblings #290: “My Backyard“.