Basil can be an entire forest. What is the equivalent in poetry?

Someone commenting on the fresh basil in the salad along with tomatoes and the surprise of beets.
A stranger buying 2 of your poetry books.
And always the ripe is to the good.

Which did I love first -- salads or poems?

Loving the good things of which salads and poetry are, is not hierarchical.  Nor is time.  Bounty loves a circle.  Think heirloom tomato.  Think fresh herbs. How basil in particular is similar to words in a poem offering surprise.  Offering delight.