Summer Fete

Garage sales are fun, and summer fetes even more so as the choices are
so many, and all out of doors. Second-hand books draw me every time, but I always wander through baking, white elephants, clothes, jewellery …

A

SUMMER FETE

voices cascade tent-roofs
while music trickles down posts   
and coins clink hand to hand
in harmonic orchestration

sandwiches, drinks, and hotdogs
juggle from grass to tarmac
table to booth
under canvas or tree

percussion circulates
mutates, becomes circus –
a merry-go-round of faces, names        
I recapture after twenty years
to pocket, finger, and discover
memory lingers with coffee
lured to present tense pleasure
while the yard-sale trumpets
and last year’s treasures
flock to new homes

A

A

A Summer Father … Here is poetry … interweaving images culled from a wartime childhood with bittersweet memories of a “summer father”. Lynda Monahan