Jan's Garden
This sweet gentle sonnet is for Janet.
In whose garden I've sat for the last hour.
There is no better place on the planet
to capture the grace and awesome power
of a person who thinks she has neither.
A silent orchestra of bright colors,
soloist and chorus of each species gather
in season from subtle to loud bellow,
in a silent sonata conducted
by a genius gardener spreading life
and beauty and love. Reward not expected
by our maistro except the relief
of life's burdens, a few ripe tomatoes,
appreciative children, any of those.
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