The stone pieces in the middle of this calming place have bits of weeds growing round them.
Though the owner thinks them not weeds, but growth, she lets them blossom
Vibrant colors. Crazy shapes. Curly vines, it all surrounds the trees and cottage.
A ceramic fairy sits on a small wooden bench, watching the scene change with the seasons.
An unmoving frog-king crouches proudly on his organic rocking chair throne.
The foliage over takes one another, out to claim a place for its branches
The sturdy oxygen making, leaf growing, tree stands proud in its corner.
The forever unused watering tin sits forever in the same spot. The owner lets nature care for her plants, except in the scorching sun.
The wooden bird house sways with the branch it hangs from.
A bird chirps, the sun glares.
The writer stops.
The poem is done.
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