Saturday Morning Market on the Town Square

Luminous sun, cool autumn air,

Truckfuls of pumpkins--

As many different colors and shapes as there are trees

And people--

Spilling out the back,

Onto haystacks,

In ornamental towers.

Fresh coffee--Free,

Fair Trade and Central American,

Like the wife of the vendor at the adjacent table.

Amish jams and honey,

Homebaked whole grain breads,

Handmade soaps,

Middle Tennessee's finest local produce.

Multiple loops around the square,

Laughing, chatting with each other and strangers--

"Bok choy is in season."

"Look at all the bumps on this pumpkin!"

"What a cute dog!"

"How old is your baby?"

Young boy slowly
Pours out sweetness from his violin.

Old Civil War tunes--

Aura Lee, Home Sweet Home--
Swirl around the courthouse,
Whose walls still contain Yankee and Confederate bullets,

Stunning onlookers into awed silence,

Taking us deep into history of the Old South.

My heart follows his bow

Back and forth,

Back and forth, 

Looooonnng vibrato.

I look up through maple trees.

When I think of what I love about the South,

I see smiling, friendly faces

At the Saturday Market

On the Square.