Friday, 14 July 2017

The visitors.


I am visited by butterflies, when I walk into the garden.
Yellow butterflies flying off little yellow flowers as if the whole bunch just grew wings.
Urging me to raise my arms to touch them but in vain.

I am visited by a tiny 🐦bird, when I walk into the garden.
Little black bird residing on the tall green bamboo🎍, chirping as if the bamboo found its voice.
Startling me everytime it flies away.

I am visited by ants 🐜🐜🐜, when I walk into the garden.
Tiny red ones, building anthill in a quiet corner as if  the garden were their kingdom, protecting them from rain.
Stinging me, sending shivers up my spine as soon as I step on the grass.

I am visited by strange small white  frogs🐸, when I visit the garden.
Jumping to hide in the hedge, making it shake as if the hedge acquired dancing feet.
Making me jump back, petrified their predators🐍 may follow soon.

I am visited by droplets of water falling down from wet leaves.
Creepers bowing, shaking off their flowers on me, greeting me in the mornings.
Reminding me I am alive and awake, when I visit my garden.

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