A restaurant in a steeple! What next?
I like it here. ‘This is the best
food in Lincoln,’ I always say.
Maybe it’s the lamb with oranges,
maybe it’s the quail with barley rusks.
It’s all okay, and there are choices.
We’ve come at evensong and had too much.
The waiter asks, ‘What next?’
(just like I do) to find out what we want.
If only we knew! —The room rejoices!
‘We none of us know! We just like the space!’
A good laugh at our doubt is had by all.
We all and only have a secret dream:
to become fat for free. But how?
Never leaving has occurred to us,
or joining the incentive scheme.
We don’t know how either ends,
but what we know we share:
bring kindness and a mind,
a willingness to spend oneself,
a taste for luxury and care,
a body full to fullness given over,
a thought for mysteries and how they tend
to keep us rich and make us richer,
a glint, a spark, a glare, a gleam,
a love of being hosted to the end,
and, as I always say,
‘Bring your friends.’