Garden Folio

Evening in the garden.

A long stretch of warmth

And mellow light.

I sweat in the gloaming,

Casual weeding done

In air thick with summer scents.

Earth and growing things

Clinging as close

As my shirt, wet with effort.

And now the day goes slowly

Into breathless dusk,

The air is filled with voices.

Two dozen birds vie raucously

For the banquet turned to light

By my gardening chores.

The come, hovering and clashing

Asserting antique prowess

Better suited to their giant forebears.

They alight nearby and pierce me

With their dew-bright gaze,

Filled with thoughts of food and territory.

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