She doesn’t usually pack a pork pie to share,
or a big wedge of cheddar and soda bread from
the bakery, which she will let Jimmy think is
homemade, unless he asks, and she wouldn’t
usually pack two pickled onions, four gherkins,
a large Scotch egg, ripe tomatoes and cucumber,
or brown pickle chutney, and her best cutlery,
or her starched-stiff white damask linen tablecloth,
and certainly not her blue willow plates that she
bought at a penny sale, plus a red plaid rug
for them to sit on. Jimmy’s bringing lemonade.
She doesn’t usually agree to meet Jimmy
for a picnic under the big oak, which before
today had never been hit by a lightning strike.
A sonnet, that’s some what a food list poem. This is not at all what I set out to write (I should be writing a Cento for Miz Quickly), but this is what came out of my head. I’ve also shared it with dVerse Open Link Night ©️ Misky 2020.