I have a secret garden where odd things happen.
No-one else knows of this place, its mine alone.
A conifer hedge opens up to allow me to enter.
There is no gardener yet nothing is overgrown.

Its where birds like to line-dance at 3.00pm each day.
Where flowers turn and watch me pass them by.
Lillies and Dahlias make themselves into a garland,
And a field mouse nods at me then gives a gentle sigh.

Hedgehogs happily sunbathe on their backs.
Four foxes arrive wearing bibs at dinner time.
Trees bend their branches to spell out words,
And slugs carry cloths to wipe up their slime.

Pigeons enjoy playing a 10-over game of cricket.
Some magpies watch from a bench and applaud.
A weasel stands on its hind legs to be the umpire,
While two feral cats tend to the scoreboard.

It’s a reflective place, an area of splendid tranquillity.
A place where plants, mammals and birds are welcoming.
Somewhere they can live in harmony and with respect.
A secret garden where a peaceful silence is deafening.

It’s a place I’m desperate to keep a secret,
For fear of disturbing its balance and stability.
It’s a pity we can’t all live in perfect harmony,
Rather than in a world that’s full of hostility.