When I came across Edwin Morgan’s poem back in August, it was at a time when I was thinking about someone at the end of their life. At any other time, I know I would have enjoyed the poem well enough. It’s such a vividly drawn scene – the blue plates, the strawberries dipped in sugar, the knees, the crossed forks – and simple. No fancy language. No tricksy metaphors. Also, it’s about food which generally endears me to a piece of writing/art…