Butterflies flit around my face
morning does not stay
minutes turns to hours
as I duel with weeds and play.
I go out front and gasp
stock-still, in awe I stand
loving flowers of every hue
petals are caressed with hand.
Sun sets, splashing orange
and yellow across the sky
fiery colors fast-slipping by.
“Dear God, is this all just for me?”
“Child of nature, thumbs of green
butterfly whisperer, home garden queen,
send your pictures to Belinda’s eyes
and they will bless all who see.
by Jeanne Marie