My birds,
a winsome kaleidoscope of colour and sound
I stand within myself in my clearing, a tiny, circular garden
filled simply with encroaching trees and
a circle of pale concrete underfoot

Marred only
with snaring daisies, quiet
allure, and I take the time to romance the colours I behold so dearly
as they swim through my blurred, jarring vision and as I
melt wholly into the river beside me.

My garden is the only good left in this world
especially now that I have left it.