Snow Peas

In the morning

There is a chill

In the air

Slowly I move


The sun is

Peaking over

The horizon

And the fog

Is dissipating

Slowly and


Across the dirt


Is the garden

Deer sit quietly

Eating the

Snow peas

Thankful they

Grow so well

In the chilly


I think to chase

Them away

Then consider

Pantry is full

Canning is done

I will let them

Enjoy the sweet

Crisp taste in


Before winter

Comes again

Gene G. McLaughlin 2005

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