Beyond the measured stretch of lawns and hedges
are cultivated rows where snug plastic
tunnels creep. Indoors, the fantastic
spores fluff up on jelly: fungus rages
under glass and germination bristles.
In a sealed hot-room, in tanks lined with foil
predators quietly chew and scrat; aphids suck their fill
of sap. A forest of corn in pots jostles
in the breathless light of the glasshouse, each plant
drip-fed, wired to dream on growth. This is calm
towering work, where light is monastic, clean
or flares briefly on a clear pane, a white coat.
All builds, for the one to burst into the room
with a bouquet, steal the studied scene.

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