008 Rosemary

8 01 2012

I hold two sprigs which freshly cut

give up their scent from glossy leaves.

For a moment I’m a giant with two trees

resting in the palm of my hand.

Two sprigs go into the pot –

the smallest ingredient

brings out the best in all the others.

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2 responses

8 01 2012
Libby

I love this wonderful little poem.

8 01 2012
Louise

Thanks Libby, I’m now enjoying my soup!

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