Oh you!
Oh queen of the tuberous roots,
Mother of the morning glories.
What joy!
Out of the dirt springs sweetness,
Glowing of orange and red and brown and gold.
And for me!
You grace the garden then the table,
In every incarnation, you dazzle.
What more?
What more could one ask for,
Then to persistently partake in your pleasure.
Oh you, oh joy!
Dazzle once again,
And I will never tire of you.
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