The Herb Garden by Robert Nisbet

Tarragon, rosemary, fennel and thyme.
Barely a herb garden, more a collection
of herbs in pots, ranged in her small back yard.

Tarragon, rosemary, fennel and thyme.
She dwelt on the scents and the sweetness.
Rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
But no-one had died. He’d been for years in Spain,
but there were no calls, no postcards now.

She remembered the many weekend trips,
warm B&B’s, once a country hotel, a lodge,
walks, many walks, their breaths mingling
in the bright beginning air of the mornings.
Tarragon, rosemary, fennel and thyme.

What is it with the smell of herbs? Sweetness yes,
but aren’t there too a heaviness, near to over-full,
maybe a tinge of bitterness?