Solitude

Gardening, except for birds,
I conduct alone,
mostly down on my knees,
planting, staking, trimming;
my view is normally focused on the ground,
my involvement down,
my hands occupied in dirt.

Occasionally, a worm will surprise me
if I’ve dug deep
or pulled up a weed with long roots.
The worm I cover.
It is not my intent to converse.

One the other hand,
the catbird is a critic of my work,
has zero fear
and loves especially to hear
his constant talk.

His chatter, not really a song,
goes on as long as I keep on working.
Still,
I’m left to my private thinking,

Sometimes I sing, just to see how he will respond
or, maybe, whistle.
Not to worry, he’s engaged in himself
more than I’ll ever be.

It must take more than an ego and absence of boundaries
to be so free.