The Garden Laughs

The Garden Laughs

The garden laughs in quiet colour,

Nothing loud, nothing forced,

Just petals opening where they are,

As if they always knew how.

I step outside without a plan,

Just to stand a while and look,

At things growing without asking,

At life getting on with itself.

A bee drifts past my shoulder,

Not concerned with me at all,

Focused on its small task,

Moving from bloom to bloom.

There is a patch near the fence,

Where nothing grew last year,

Now it is full without warning,

Green pushing through every gap.

I notice the uneven edges,

Nothing planted in straight lines,

And yet it feels more right this way,

Less like control, more like trust.

The air holds a gentle warmth,

Not too strong, just enough,

To remind you of longer days,

Still waiting somewhere ahead.

I stay longer than I meant to,

Leaning slightly on the gate,

Watching small movements happen,

That I would usually miss.

When I go back inside again,

Something comes with me,

A quiet lift I cannot explain,

But I know it came from here.

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