My Father's Garden

Outside my door is a garden
That belongs to my Father and I; 
He splashes it with a purple-toned theme:
Of lavenders, fuchsias, violets, and peach's.

He breathes on the gardenia and they awaken
He whispers to the roses and they bloom
He sprinkles them with their own perfume
And fills the air with breath and bloom.

Life unfolds before my eyes...
Leaf-buds peeking,orchids waving,
Blades of lemongrass bending,
Zebra longwings flitting,sweet-nectar sipping;

Squirrels on branches in playful chitter.
Pigeons, bluejays, grackles twitter.

On whimsical flight from flower to flower--- a leafwing butterfly;
Leaf-laden boughs caressed by the breeze---my dreamy lullaby.
Birdsong and wind chimes--- a calming reverie; 
Long-armed trees reach out to meet me.


Where sight falls and ears turn
in my Father's garden: 
a glimpse, a sound; a holy feeling;
in sunlight, in air, in shadows passing;
In turn of leaf, in blush of flower,
in sighing wind, in showers falling---
(To the garden I go).
My Father is calling.