A tropical paradise 

Trapped inside a concrete jungle

A place of isolation 

Giving way to reflection

Emerald clouds of foliage 

Home to bugs and critters 

Hasta plants sprouting

And giving the tulips company

And in the frigid winter months in

When the inside of my head

Sounds like a woodpecker’s routine

With my teeth chattering hours

The scent of burning wood

And dried out oak leaves

Accented by distant exhaust

And cheap tobacco smoke

An emporium of beauty

Walled off by the covering of maples 

Explored only by myself

And the animals calling it home

A beating heart, pumping with vigor

Keeping the creatures alive

In all of it’s enigmatic harmony

A beacon of light outside my door