I think it was the nun to be
Who showed me, for the first time
The opening, the closing
Of the Evening Primrose
Now, at breakfast
It is a red flower
Which takes my gaze; I don’t
Know it’s name, but I will take a photograph
Paul told me of this organic farm
In whose cafe I now sit
It is only ten minutes walk from college
But with big views, of fields, of woods
They serve huge slices
Of broccoli, leek, mushroom, and cheese tart
If they are Cornish Pasties
I may we’ll be back tomorrow
After the tart I take a slab
Of their chocolate brownie
Which I am pretty sure
Will be made with real milk
As will whatever else
These mighty fine Italian chefs do
To expertly turn out
Such delicacies
