booths and people smiling at us
but mostly at Leroy, our naughty dog
who gets petted in abundance,
a little more than he deserves.
A choir of old people sings off key,
while a curious crowd listens respectfully.
Young musicians compete for attention, hopeful
that dollars will fill their donation buckets
the way their ambition fills their future.
A little extra falls from our pockets
to the homeless guy singing old Spanish songs
with a loud joyous voice, hardly heard.
We admire crafty people's art,
but keep our promise not to buy
what we don't need though we wish
we could support them and so many other things.
Onions, squash, bean sprouts, greens,
the impossible to live without
healthy doggie treats come home
in our car where you squeese my hand
as we silently agree on how nourishing,
how sacred is the ordinary.