Jacqui Stearn All Rise on St. Nicholas Day

Here comes the light,

more time to read, 

to talk, to walk

to market, greet Megan 

at the egg stall, late riser

when compared to Sonia

who left the warmth of her bed

at five thirty to adorn her stall

with bronze-bright onions,

and heaps of greens are-good-for-you

brassica glory. Ricky on the bread said,

“It wasn’t as early as the bakers

back at base who started their shift at three thirty”.

Later still Phil, who sells the Ladies’ milk, joined Milly

at nine - she’d been on her feet for an hour or more.

As for Gerb, the farmers’ market maestro,

walking up and down easing the street’s selling,

he rose at four.

All this rising before daylight, driving

under moonlight in whatever weather,

loading, unloading of food produced

on land around our market town, all this

to exchange banter, cash, invisible money

to trade give and take with us.

Early afternoon they pack up,

Megan and Sonia,

Ricky and Phil,

Milly, Gerb and many more

to head back to farms, sheds, kitchens,

beds.