7. Jan, 2017

The Market Clock

Time turns carousels
Around the market clock.
Ornate as Christmas,
In the centre it stands,
Strands of wrought iron
Climbing to a cupola,
Delicate as vines on a trellis.
Fruit glows beneath on stalls,
Oranges, melons and lemons.
But instead of angels
Coming out to chime the hour,
The grocer calls out his bargains,
In irresistible pounds and pence.

Ruth Enright