Sunday Morning at the Market - Claire Provancha (Lincoln, Nebraska)
The rich, mellow strumming of a guitar fills the crisp autumn air. People pass by the man and his instrument,
dropping coins into his cup as they walk.
Some even stop to sing along.
Children dash through the crowd, through the leaves,
sucking their homemade lollipops from the candy stand.
Golden retrievers and beagles
munch on gourmet dog biscuits.
Smells of fresh-baked pasta
and bitter herbs
and spicy salsa
blend together and create a luscious midmorning aroma.
People stroll from stand to stand,
sampling sun-dried tomatoes
and sweet gelato.
They talk and laugh with the vendors,
and leave with their food
as well as new friends.
Inside of every vendor is a passion.
Every stand is a dream being made reality.
Warm thought is baked into every loaf of bread,
and countless hours go into growing even the smallest pea.
Sunday morning at the market.