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.