In a pickle, I must choose

Which to keep and which to lose,

Which to weed, and which to use

For a tasty treat.

*

Eyesight, don’t deceive me now,

Sweat, don’t drip from over brow,

I must save just dill somehow,

So pickles I can eat!

This photo isn’t incredibly exciting – who takes pictures of weeds?  But this little poem came to me as I was scrolling through my stash of garden shots, and I thought it was kind of cute!  🙂