Cutting Basil (sonnet)

Returning from the garden with my pail –
Preserving basil from cold Winter’s lack –
I saw two large crows, foreguard of the murder,
The harbingers of Winter, frosty black;
They called out in their loud and rusty voices,
The scouts of corvid rivers soon to come,
Reminded me that, in this sea of plenty,
I’d shortly miss the bumbles’ pleasant hum.
Recalling last year’s frost and snowy cover,
I stood there for one breath – or maybe two –
In happy expectations of the Winter
Before the omens flew out of my view.
Then gladly to my basil I returned,
The quiet joys of this day still to learn.


About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Dogs, Birds and Other Joys, Gardening, Gardening, Usually Organic, joy, love, Patience, Philosophy, Poetry, Sonnet, Summer, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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