Goddess of the marketplace

Missoula has various markets on "summer" Saturdays. The Goddess moves among us.

Goddess of the marketplace

She nests in thoughts
our memories
of this bright green bowl, frost edged,
that sun peers through
translucent.
See:
an illuminated village marketplace
where at last
we seek our Goddess
walking through the stalls of wools-and-wonders
while She stops to sniff the coffee,
caress a pound of cold packed butter.
It's Her month,
this May,
a Saturday
when mountains of Montana christen,
greet Her
where black poplar turns from bronze
to green.
She's only seen
by pods of kayakers
braving rapids and Her spray,
prayed to by fly fishermen
casting lines upstream.
She slowly closes eyes
as if to dream
this verdant bowl, frost edged and glistening.

© Kåre Enga [166.60] 2009-05-16

28 lines