The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: waiting.
Had a pretty successful first farmers market of the year, despite the cold and sprinkles of rain and a very quiet start to the morning. Sold a whole bunch of plants, quite a bit of rhubarb, and... no greeting cards. Which is fine, card sales tend to pick up quite a bit in tourist season.
Katherine and Max remained home while I brought our farm intern and her daughter to help me at the market. But if the weather is nice next week the whole family will be there which, if today was any indication, will make a lot of people very excited.
Mine:
The whistle sounds,
The market opens.
Will customers come?
I'm sure hopin'!
3 comments:
Sounds like your weather is pretty variable at the moment, since you were talking about the heat less than a week ago! Did your intern and her daughter enjoy the market? It sounds like next week's market will be quite a show for you then :)
By the way, I love rhubarb!
Nice little poem, I think it probably captures the mood as you set-up at the market this morning.
Waiting
The ante-room is as old as time,
I've been waiting here for years,
The queue moves once a century,
And is filled with all my peers.
Years of trying, fertility, loss after loss
And Then! 8 years in the making - a baby girl who is mine all mine
Please, Dear God. Please! I cannot carry this cross.
Please come back and say benign.
Greg - yeah, I think they had a pretty good time. Her daughter certainly had a blast playing around with our whiteboard sign :)
Well, I suppose having your peers around would make that queue a little less miserable than it would be otherwise...
Mo - oof, very powerful stuff. That final line is like a punch in the gut.
Post a Comment