FENCED OFF

The front door to my garden. A cherry wine painted red with a golden knocker. Fenced in, a simplistic wonder hides beneath the picket fence. A plastered white peels with solitude as my shrubs gently slide through the cracks. Ivy covers the outsides in hopes of peering out at the world. Only the branches of my hydrangeas are visible on the inside. My neighbors stick their noses between the posts, envious of what I could be hiding.

They’ll never see the heart of my flowerbed. However, my garden has never been a secret. Rather, it was built as a gateway to another world. But no one has ever knocked. If you ask why couldn’t tell you. This small enclosure seems to hide the most power on this planet. A piece of life in a world of death.

Death has always pricked at the sight of my garden, but the picket fences have always kept him out. He was envious of the only green spot left in a world of darkness.

Death may take the sky, and shower poison through the rains. He blows hard winds downward praying against my wishes, but vultures never come cawing.

I dare not trust the forbidden words of the world against my precious plants, for that, I’ve locked them away. Hopefully one day they can reflourish and reach their crusted-over leaves towards the sky, their green will shine brighter, and the world will return to what it was. Maybe in another season.

Favorite Season

Isabella Zachary

As I lay in the warmth of my bedroom I see the crisp fall leaves creep up to my window Asking to be let in I love the leaves, But for one reason or another, I turn the other cheek Afraid of what they might disturb or damage So I leave them to the dull serenity of the wind Even though however, They’re so pleasant to look at I love the way they make me feel And their soothing sounds how they are swept up in the air with minimal effort how each crumple and divet of a leaf is so imperfect, yet perfect The way feel safe. So desired and yet familiar and maybe it’s you for you are just like the leaves.