Wagtails in the garden

Through the shadowy grey
of who what when
the mornings are fuzzy

green of visitors that will dance
and laugh, tell stories
with many gestures

and always find a reason
to touch me and embrace
me intimately

It's all, but not enough
I don't want to
crawl away in my hole yet

Could I only hide
like the sun
and appear again

with wagtails in the garden
and playing children
outside