my secret garden picture



It’s a crazy time of year, isn’t it? The Christmas frenzy, the New Year celebration – have you had time to stop and smell the roses?


In keeping with the garden theme this week I’m sharing a poem about my own little slice of heaven. I hope you enjoy.




my secret garden picture

Don’t feel the need to travel afar

To discover new lands, to investigate stars

I sit in my garden, alone with the trees

A yard that is teeming with hidden myst’ries


Sometimes the ground itself seems to move

As hundreds of lizards forage for food

And under a rock there’s a beetle so bright

I know it’s his beauty he keeps out of sight


The busy bees buzz and the butterflies fly

And up in a branch the baby birds cry

Ruby the ringtail sleeps in a tree

And sometimes she blinks her brown eyes at me


A goldfish shares pond with Frankie the frog

And nearby a bluetongue rests in a log

A lifetime of study focused and fond

Won’t divulge all the secrets within that same pond


my secret garden picture
Frankie the Frog


The spider makes webs, such a detailed plan

Can’t be outdone by inventions of man

A dig in the soil reveals squiggly worms

They aerate the earth for flowers and ferns


A miniature waterfall is home to tadpoles

And, all around, ants are burrowing holes

Bright petals dance on the wisp of a breeze

Enjoying a canopy of towering trees


my secret garden picture
Bright petals dance


Each tree is a haven for all kinds of life

A shelter for those who would stay out of strife

Each tiny leaf working to make good our air

Of its essentuality so unaware


my secret garden picture
A haven for all kinds of life


Night-times – more myst’ry, a feast for our ears

Unusual sounds that focus our fears

A tree’s branch creak, leaves protest and shake

Was that a sweet possum, or a slithering snake?


Night noises of crickets, geckos, and bats

The buzzing and biting of mosquitos and gnats

Then the possums come bounding, it’s their turn to play

Full of mischief and mayhem, from sleeping all day


my secret garden picture
The possums come bounding


Each morning alas, some new thing is discovered,

A visitor passing or something uncovered

Each season eternal in the circle of life

With beginnings and endings, with change being rife


There is drama and intrigue, the struggle to live

And there’s beauty and harmony, so much to give

I step out my door to this bustling throng

A mere passing word in Earth’s magical song


If you enjoyed this you might also like The Wild Wardrobe.

Wishing you time to stop and smell the roses and a gleeful week, Tamuria



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