Perfect Thyming

ThymeI slide the glass door
In wafts
smell of thyme
mint and lavender travel, too,
but thyme
the stronger scent
reaches me first.

Thyme,
lord of herbs,
travels first —
lavender and mint
close on her
heals.

This thyme’s a woman,
three times the lady
I am.
I but planted her
grounded her roots;
her powers are her own.

I remember past thymes —
jarred
preserved
irradiated —
big-city, rushed-life thymes; or
bagged and tagged
tea-thymes that
by their very de-naturement
could not be a patch on this thyme,
the thyme before me,
the thyme that might heal all wounds.

This thyme
I’ve got it right.
I pluck it gently
savour it fully.

There’s no present like my thyme.

  1 comment for “Perfect Thyming

  1. April 9, 2015 at 20:26

    LOVE this one!

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