Global Warming

Sunlight in the café

lightens up my latte;

I cannot eat one biscuit

without a nob of butter

but maybe I should risk it

and get on - getting fatter.

Make me up a platter

- a plate of scones and butter

with subtle smells, the earth compels

my lips and mountain belly.

I’ll gobble steak and chips here,

pie and pickle, arctic rolls

while sunlight in the café

hardens and grows cold.