Spring is here
And the bees are buzzing around in the air
Fresh honey
Stuck in my throat
Flowers fill the air
With their natural perfume
Every stall
Is full of brightly colored fruits
There's music too
And a stage with a band
There's kids
With face paint
And balloon animals
No one knows
Where they got the balloons
Or the paint
There isn't a stall
For either of those things
There's music
Everywhere
No matter how far you stray from the band
Always the same song
No matter where you go
There's fresh samples
But only if you buy
The bread is still warm
But the farmer's market has been open for hours
And the bakery is miles from here
Nothing makes sense
Some plants are edible
And the rest are for looks
The vendors only smile
Expecting you to know
Which is which
It's a strange place
Here at the farmer's market
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
