What hides in the garden

My garden awakes for spring,
or so they say. I worry about it.
I know beneath the rocks a menace
hides, awaiting. creatures oblivious to anything
but their selfish appetite, threaten the blooms
of the old crab apple, the lilies, the flowerless wisteria.
they wait for warm weather, lie still and let us think
they are all gone for good.
I know better. I invite inspection. The inspector
says not to worry, tries to calm my fears.
They are part of nature, he says. Deal with it.
Ignore. The tree will be okay, he says to me,
as long as the buds are there.
For now I’ll take his word. There is really nothing
I can do, but wait and see.