A speaker wheels a trolley through a supermarket, narrating each choice with real care: apples first, tomatoes handled gently so they don't bruise, melons picked by their firm flesh. Then it's on to the butcher's stall, where the speaker weighs rump against chuck for a sweeter stew and admits the chops are almost too tempting to resist. The tone is cheerful, absorbed, and a little fussy in a likable way.
In the last six lines, the speaker argues that shopping doesn't have to be dull, like the grey cardboard boxes standing in rows. Instead it can feel like a "magical buffet," a world of overflowing platters. The final line adds a dry twist: this only works "as long as you've a credit card to pay." The wonder is real, but so is the bill. The mood is playful and warm, with a light, knowing wink at how easily abundance and spending get tangled together. The old-fashioned "'Tis" and the tidy sonnet form make an ordinary errand sound grand, which adds to the gentle humour.