In the Garden

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Swinging branches full of leaves

home to birds

who are as thick as thieves.

They sing in unison their morning song

while an old man

in his garden hums along.

Checking his flower beds for any damage

then to his vegetable patch

to admire his cabbage.

He stands upright to stretch his back

then looks over the garden

to see what is next to attack.

Weeds are sprouting through patio slabs,

with one hand on his hip

he gives his forehead a dab.

Whispers to himself  that he is getting too old

then drops to his knees

with his sleeves already rolled.