Tepotzlan Market

When we travel I bring back a suitcase full of memories and a camera full of colour. I get glimpses of another culture, another way of doing life, of being, and that is all good …

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TEPOTZLAN MARKET                                                  

meat, oiled by sunlight
haggled by women

men staple leather
while gutted fish offend tourists

bark carved into castles
beside hand-picked spices

hats racked for workers
rejected by visitors as not exotic

I barter for four sunlit shirts
one is white with startled yellow birds

flying from its shoulders                                                     
into the blue Mexican sky

held by my camera
in a forever of coloured squares

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first published in Quills

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A Summer Father … terse, imagistic lines; … It’s not nostalgia that we experience but quiet, poignant grief. Richard Stevenson

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