When a tree waves its green leafy hand,
Most don't notice, but I understand;
The swaying of a flower, the buzz of a bee . . .
That's how my garden beckons to me

The little blades of grass gently nod
As a worm pokes his head through the sod;
Cast blame if you will on my vanity,
But I'm certain he's looking for me

Now the wind wants to join in the game --
Spying a windchime, it takes careful aim;
Soon the air fills with a soft melody,
And I smile, knowing it's playing for me

I watch as the sun sweeps clouds away,
Showing off with such gaudy display;
But I must admit, the sun's victory
Causes the flowers to dance with glee

And I stand in awe amidst this scene
Of peace and beauty.  If I were a Queen
What nobler entitlement could there be
Than these treasures unfurled before me?

A warble suddenly hushes life's din,
And soon more feathered minstrels join in;
But such incidents are no mystery . . .
That's just my garden calling to me