My garden has a dozen shades of green,
a peppering of purple, yellow, white,
and red, below a jacaranda screen
pale violet against the summer light.
It features branches, flowers, leaves, and vines.
It welcomes birds and makes the squirrels fat.
A skunk has bunks beneath the deck, and dines
on grubs and preens at night upon the mat
that lays outside the threshold of my door.
I know all this, because of late, I’m here
as much as possible. Enjoying more
of its selected perfect atmosphere,
this garden is my favorite place to be,
and now its newest ornament is me.