Grace, a sonnet

The kindness of an early Summer day
That gilds tomato leaves with shining touch,
Shows cabbage moths, a trio, at such play
The damage they do matters not so much–
The chicory that sends blue shooting stars
Some five feet high before it makes its seeds –
The wren that flits in circles as it spars
With flighty winging protein that it needs —
Potato blooms and carrot tops that make
Contrasting stained-glass shapes in morning light,
This shining fountain where the sparrows take
Repeated baths to cool their Summer flight–
All this is Grace, but even more than this,
The Grace I feel in my sweet lover’s kiss.

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
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