At the Fruit Stand

Beneath the midday heat
Within the darkened shed
The fruit monger and I
Filled my plastic bags with a kilo of this
And a kilo of that, when the radio station
Broke into a rollicking folkdance

He started it, the clapping
Arms raised high, fingers snapping,
But I soon joined in,
And together we danced around the citrus
While the music throbbed joy and power
Until the cashier snapped,
"Sa'ad!"

Youth and the party evaporated.
He resumed stacking tomatoes;
I filled my bags and left.

For a moment, though, the heat had given way
And the fruits had glowed inside,
Festival decorations
Bright as the noonday sun above.

(c)Christy Lumm                          

published in Skipping Stones 2007

Mindworm Press, Chesapeake, VA