garden thoughts

wind
gusts through
the garden
carrying leaves
to mark its dancing
way and I, sitting on
my private bench, chicken sounds
washing over me, carrying
the smell of grubby feathers and fresh
eggs, I want to be tossed like a leaf, up
into the air, until I feel I could
never fall, pushed aloft by little
finger breezes just strong enough
to give me a little lift
touching every garden
in the world until
I come back home
to the sound
of wind
chimes