I could say nothing about Norfolkor flowers
but stand and stare at such a pack of cars
falling in line to show that Norfolk blooms
like everywhere or nowhere
except this Norfolk, this Little England
where Charles and Camilla ride past, tangibly beaming,
where crowds cheer
where the church, the house, the museum
familiar as TV, horse-drawn carriages
or the history of the motor car
in this royal seat, this ancient house
this orb within a sceptred isle.
Yet this garden packs nothing but flowersgently lending the finest view of reflected light and air
housing the finest pack of chimneys
falling in line to nature’s best.