The Visitor

You followed me in like you were invited...

taking a break, I guess, from your garden work,

going from flower to flower to flower.

And as I sat down in my old studio chair,

Surrounded by beloved tools and brushes,

The smells of wood and paint.

I see you are curious,

Buzzing around to every nook and cranny,

Hovering here and there like you were taking notes.

Of course, you have to investigate me

From head to toe and back again.

I can feel the breeze from your wings on my cheek

And feel blessed although

A note of concern that you will go into my ear,

But you move on…

One more swing around the room

And back out the door into the sunshine.

So much more to do,

So many flowers.