Glass door to my patio ...
Where tender seedlings are on show,
Mint and parsley raise their heads
Modestly from flower beds.
The pots are newly filled with blooms
Their roots reach downwards one assumes
Much-needed moisture feeds the growth
Of fragile tendrils, buds – or both.
Each day the dawn brings welcome heat
And bans the shadows in my street
The sound of birdsong fills my ears
Spring's here at last - though in arrears!
Thyme bursts forth from winter sleep
I trim the woody bits and keep
The bright green shoots with fragrant smell;
My garden full of herbs bodes well!
(c) Poet in the woods 2017