Saturday July 23rd, 2016

The exercise:

Write a four line poem that has something to do with: nostalgia.

Let's see, what did I say again yesterday? 36 pints and 7 quarts of blackberries, yup, sold all those. 4 crates of peaches... sold 3 of those. 14 crates of apples... yeah, didn't bring any of those home. What else. Oh, right, the nectarines.

"... and 23 (way more than we need) crates of nectarines."

Got that one wrong - only brought back 1.5 crates of nectarines.

Let's just call that surpassing my wildest expectations.

The kids generally had fun as well, the weather was beautiful, the crowds were plentiful. Overall a pretty ideal market.


Forgotten names and faces flip past;
She doesn't even pause to look -
Not until she comes to his picture
In her dusty, faded yearbook.


Greg said...

Well done on all the selling, you'll be the most envied people at the market soon. Maybe you could get a double-wide stall and start ordering other stallholders to do things for you? Get a crown and become the King and Queen of Penticton? You're already body-doubling for the Mayor after all... :-D
Your poem today is sweet and slightly sad; a perfect capture of nostalgia. I find myself curious as to who she and he are... which is also rather nice.

"I know algia means pain," the little boy said,
"But I can't find a meaning for Nost"
"It means remembering," his father declared,
"It's the pain of the things that you've lost."

[Disclaimer: the boy's father may or may not know anything at all about old languages.]

Marc said...

Greg - thanks! And... I don't know how well the other vendors would respond to that sort of behaviour :P

Eh, he could've fooled me. Regardless, your poem works beautifully, even if it's not strictly, ah, accurate :)