
Fledglings leave the nest,
the last of the twigs crumble:
parents’ duties done.

Fledglings leave the nest,
the last of the twigs crumble:
parents’ duties done.

Aiming for the skies,
peppered along my garden:
purple drop, sweet peas.

Majestic eagle,
flying into the sunset—
metal in the sky.

Pregnant belly swells,
stretching out in the sunshine—
broad beans in labour.

A tear drop or two,
refreshes the mind and soul;
garden after rain.