Kate came to me with a request
To write about, at her behest
A strange little jar
That hangs not too far
From the window, secure in its nest.
“They’re BEANS!” she exclaimed with delight
So earnest it gave me a fright
But beans they sure were
A little green blur
Positioned to catch all the light.
“They’ll sprout, see, and it’ll be great!”
Said oh-so-excitable Kate
“There’ll be sprouts everywhere!
As unkempt as my hair!”
Thus all winter that’s what we ate.