White pockets of snow
Sit proud on little marigolds
Though their buds will see the fall
It is their last time

Crickets chirp in the distance
Making pleasant sounds
I see beetles on their backs
And they will never walk again

There are violet skies with raindrops
Thunder is in the distance
I keep swinging back and forth
on my old garden chair

The wind is bending
Weeds –they are healthy
They like to stand tall
But their presence is not welcome

My garden has been good to me
It has taught me about
Our struggles in life, death and dying
And our need for love