To emulous praise of great simplicity
Whose tale, before me coming here, was told
But soon shall come summer tomatoes’ harvest
Leaf after leaf sprouting now, who play
In soft breezes of spring air warming
Modest speech and glowing courtesy
Then a flowering so distinct and delicate
Ah, yet smell of this particular chlorophyll
Lingering like incense of religious experience
Makes me wait with baited taste buds
For “Aha” to be exclaimed
By New Jersey-ites who have seeded heirlooms
In humble suburban backyards
And wait for that delicious immortal juice