[Yule, ’24]
C.H. Wells
The summer’s long over, you’ve run out of thyme;
You can’t change the weather with peat moss or lime.
Through nights that grew chili to days you wood roast,
You’d dig in your peels and stay calm and compost.
To earn a good celery, you’d keep weeds at bay;
And the bugs that came by knew they’d butternut stay.
Yet here’s a wee shock that could squash all your dreams …
You’ve lentil your tools to the neighbours, it seems!
But the dews of the morning have turned into frost,
And your stake in the garden is pretty much lost.
Your peas have all split and your beans done a runner;
You’ve pickled the last of your mini-cucumber.
Your herbs are all dry; your knees are all scarred;
Your nerves may be raw, but your greens are all chard.
You’ve sprung a few leeks and the outlook is fowl;
You’re feeling your beet, and you’ve thrown in the trowel.
If it isn’t too corny, here’s sage old advice:
When life gets too dahl, you can always add spice.
Till next growing season, I yam sure of this:
These are a mung all the things that you’ll miss.
When you’ve taken the pulse, and you’ve grasped your last nettle,
Just turnip the heat and put on the kettle.
Don’t stew on a future you cannot frisee:
Sit. Put your feet up. And lettuce have tea.
And though it may feel like you’re losing the plot,
Say: “‘Bye ’24! See ya roun’. Thank shallot!”
Remember the new year will soon corm alive,
With a fresh row to hoe, now it’s Two-Oh-Two-Five!
Gourd Wishes For A Happy & Healthy Winter Squash-Dish!
Merry Crispness
& a
Happy New Yard!
