Market Day Cloaks of swift market girls flash in the dawn; goods are all stacked near the cobblestone square, lessening towers arise to look on, scent of the citrus fruit clings in the air. Baking of bread, near the winding old street, warms up the windows of shops with a glow; there, all the villagers gather and meet next to the fountain, like ages ago. Bustling around as the morning moves on, under umbrellas the coffees are served; men sit at tables and chat by the lawn, smiling, as women are closely observed; Bicycles, dogs and small children go by, planters in windows with flowers abound; pastries, croissants, all infusing the sky; here, old traditions are still to be found. High up above, near the corner marquee, chimes from the tower are ringing out strong, spreading their joy to the citizenry, blending the day in a beautiful song. |