In the Garden

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 job 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

as he gets down

on his knees

with his sleeves already rolled.