Choir Singing

Although the great delight of the Museum of Scotland is observing how the sunlight does different things to the building throughout the changing seasons (several of which can occur in one day in this city) sometimes, the museum treasures are not so well illuminated.  Some never see the daylight, which means that the humble mobile-phone camera cannot capture my chosen artefact.  So for today, the picture is from a shop-display in Glasgow (and elsewhere).  

Bob, Stitched-Up.

“I’ll sing for my supper,”

he said, peeling the potatoes.

“I’ll sew,” she replied,

winding the bob in.

He took the basso;

she tacked an upper line

on while the sewing-machine

chuckled and whirred a major third.

Closer harmony stirred.

Strands were spliced:

as the singer sowed another seed,

the potatoes stayed unsliced.

But at least they had wild oats for breakfast.