Veggie garden

The trees are chattering, the fruits are growing.

The little people underground are muttering and murmuring.

I know I am not the only live one.

All my worries are speeding away in a whirl of wind.

If I were to engage with life, I would leave,

But I feel that I am not ready.

Nobody to tell me what to do. 

Nobody to tell me no.

Nobody can hear me but the trees.

Nature is my own comfort,

My own parent in my own, special way

I am home, a place which most people fear.

It is my secret, my responsibility, my place.

My family are the plants and soil.

The bushes are humming.

The possums are talking to me,

Wishing for me to stay.

If I leave, the plants will die,

And if I move away, what will happen?