This is your garden.
Stick a flower up my nose.

The first time I picked up
a rake, I almost cried.

In fact, I laughed in amusement.
I look across the span of nature, and die.

Her room, nice and neat.
Her face, a bit scruffy, but not out of sorts.

In the next garden,
the drains gurgle.

Outside the window,
a fawn watches us partake.

I wriggle with newness.
The poor creature.

Thanks Esther, it’s been fun.