The Garden

The Garden © I wander my garden the morning sun barely peeking above the distant hills dew drops wet my toes and the damp earth seeps between them cool and wet my flowers nod their heads to me as if to say ‘good morning’ their colors soft and muted without the rays of the sun to spike their flagrant color the over-achieving bee dips into the golden nectar a bird trills a celebration to the new day Trisha Sugarek Moths and Machettes