Restless waters spin down dockside
Foam spat up from ships puncturing the tide
An artisan lays out his crafts made just that week
Sold off as if they are antique

Streets lined with brick, covered with stale ale
Market shakes with sound, fish guts piled in an aluminum pale
A farmer stacks his toils next to the birth from the sea
Churchgoers give thanks, “God’s work,” they all agree

Voices come and go, vibrant and vivid with color
Strolling through the market waiting for some gift to discover
On the corner sits a cafe with common grounds freshly brewed
Inside an elderly couple acts out endless love in silent gestures

Noontime light warps between the shadowed market streets
Shading the busker whose playing has yet to cease
Reverberates, filling the air in solemn passing
Echoes while backing the waterfront wayfarers dancing