Before we had this upstairs west window
There were only whistles, gong rocks, and etched
Contracts with comets. Remember how they
Raced across the sky with no capitals,
Category: life
THE MARKET PLACE, Poetry by Frances Sheehan
Swirling, twirling spirals of colour invade our eyes with
Insistence;
That we share in the carnival displayed at The Market Place.
Vendors call out and children laugh joyfully at goods displayed…
Deliciously;
WILDsound Festival 