My Garden

My Garden is sometimes sun dappled

Sometimes rain spattered

Sometimes with patches of blue shadow here and there

Gnarled trees stand tangled outside the fence

Their entwined roots

Holding secrets of the Earth

In my garden the wind blows gently

And the trees whisper furtive longings

My garden is filled with birdsong

The caws of crows, the mumbles of pigeons

The coos of koels, the trills, chik-chiks, whistles of unknown birds

There are assorted flowerpots

Some with plants with painted leaves

Some with flowers blooming to greet my eyes

Some are empty waiting to be filled

An old, rickety table stands in a corner

On which a terracotta elephant

Contemplates Time

And a coconut slowly turns into a wrinkled husk

In the sun and rain

In another corner, leaning against the wall

Is childhood’s cricket bat, chipped and worn

And the yawn of a sleepy cat

My garden has my secret days and nights

Sometimes cloud filled

Sometimes star speckled

Sometimes freckled with rain

In my garden every moment

Is being born and is dying

At the same time – timelessly

Flowers budding, withering, ceaselessly

Leaves sprouting, falling, eternally

-by Rita Putatunda