[David Callin]

At the village produce show,
in among the frantically
gesticulating gladdies,
the plump Victoria Sandwiches
and the soda breads of greater or less
ideological soundness,
how pleasant to find a homely friend
so startlingly transfigured;
the humble tuber, least instrument
in the orchestra of Plenty,
and gloriously done up
to the wildly improbable nines
and into a class of its own:
the Decorated Potato.