A bastion of silence,
A room full of noise.
The shrill sounds coming
From little girls and boys.
A gathering of Angels
Or Cherubs, if you will.
A very harmonious sound,
That brings forth a chill.
A high Melodious voice,
The sound, Heaven's choice.
Sounds that help comfort me.
The most relaxing of noise,
You don't need to see.
This life of ours, that we eschew,
Is not the same as people view.
The importance of the material things,
Like cars, boats, clothes and expensive rings.
Others will find a full life of joy,
When they spend time teaching a girl or boy.
You can see all the love, from within
For others, at life's end or when a love begins.
Working in our garden, shovel in hand,
Digging and turning over this plot of land,
When from out from a pile of Oregon Grape,
I glimpsed a movement, my mouth agape.
A baby Possum was waddling towards me.
It moved very slowly, not sure it could see,
Walked around my feet, then said adieu,
While meandering slowly, from my view.
I have not seen another Possum here,
That moved around, with so little fear.
The garden is now starting to do,
What Nature's way, wants it to.
Most daffodils are now gone,
The flowers brown and yet,
Foliage is full and soaks up the Sun.
Tulips are lovely, this time of year,
But I see petals, start to disappear.
The bluebells I planted, are budding now,
As I await the beauty, that I somehow
Think will be there, when in full bloom.
If the weather would warm
It would be quite soon.