Getting ready for market...

03 December 2017 12:00 AM

What's around the corner of that church, the building is old, and I see the typical plants, foliage that creeps up the side of the old stone walls, almost like a spidery network of twigs, Around the back is hedgerow Foliage, Plants like tulips different well-brought up, bulbs, different colors, There is a hole in the shrubbery And turning sideways I am able to go on through, This is a wide field; a haze rolls out like a mist, There are flowers, wild flowers this time, I think I see jewelry in the air, like red necklaces, hanging from the wall,

Break on through, to the sand on the beach, The sound of waves and I start to walk, Feeling the water between my bare toes, I see the slight incline, I NEVER know what to call that, A hill, but not a hill, Shall I call it a bank? I've heard of river banks, Are there ocean banks, sea banks? The edge, Then you drop off down to the beach and to the sea,

 The village is old, the wood almost leans, The people are pushing carts, Definitely a Sunday Are we going to market? yeah, there it is a string goes above the crowd, gaily colored small flags dangling from the string criss-cross hung from one wall to the other, And to the right a wall, sort of a two by four, wicker gate, They’ve hung their wares on this wall with holes in it, The stalls are lined up here, People are mulling around here, Ah, I smell coffee and powdered sugared pastry, Market day, Pennsylvania Dutch...