The Tree House Shelley Ayres In need of adventure I climb to my tree house. Eyes closed the swaying tree house becomes a pirate’s ship. I ride the rise and fall of waves at sea. The creaking ship’s deck and the dancing branches are not branches at all. They are drunken sailors singing “Yo-ho-ho and

My Garden Shelley Ayres I stumble sleepy eyed, through the door to greet the glorious gift of morning.  I meander through my garden, hugging each blossom with my awakening eyes. I breathe in the sighs of each leaf as they shake off the dew of evening slumber.  I smile as their upward lifted faces stretch