Saturday at the Farmers Market
Colors of the market
The vegetative rush
Vines reach aground
Flowers strung a blush
Each one, turning out
In crowds of faces
To cymbals, pools,
Melting off reaches
The shaded colors
Sing of summer
Brushing one cheek
Against my finger
My heart fills
To buy each one
Had I the money
Or place to set them on.
Colors of the market
The vegetative rush
Vines reach aground
Flowers strung a blush
Each one, turning out
In crowds of faces
To cymbals, pools,
Melting off reaches
The shaded colors
Sing of summer
Brushing one cheek
Against my finger
My heart fills
To buy each one
Had I the money
Or place to set them on.
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