Weekend Market

Another weekend market passed and
stored away in memory; tables stacked,
the bins and trays all neatly packed
in spaces traded over places
where they used to be.

Taken years to be at ease with any
sense of permanence, we try to see
an order larger than the mess, more
subtle than the claim this spot is mine,
functionality more than design,
and it appears to satisfy.

Although I couldn’t say specifically
just where the ripest fruit would likely be
my guess is sure. Next week we’ve planned
an early pick to balance quirks and irksome
glitches that our orchard likes to yield –
but hitches never make our sense of fun
less than appealing.

There is time to rest, digress and
reminisce; laughter is a good release,
we’re not remiss in letting down our hair
to dance an orchard jig.

For lunch today a ripe and tasty avocado
lightly laced with lime and spices on the
Lauke bread we freshly baked,
glass of wine to celebrate.

We wouldn’t trade this place or play a game
of chance with simple cheer, a currency of
faith our orchard life enables us.
© 30 June 2008, I. D. Carswell