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.