Jamaica Market Scene

The noise broils over in the heat And spread out like wares along the street The haze of crowd, the jungled feet Fresh scent of soil and the aroma sweet I see the bright cloths, and the fashion shows The haggling voices and their temptations The big Trelawny yams that twin footed grows The paltry cents of private hesitations The market is abloom and abundance tease The native hunger from its native ease. There is guinep, the same we cracked At school, a single seed to feed a twenty pack The hog plums and the apples red, stacked Like a lean-to shack, melons dripping and the sack Of cherry tomatoes besides carrots on the mat Two orange in bags and the eggs in their flat Cabbages plump and green callaloo fresh and fat Mangoes early, and seasonings for the pot The magic of eyes the sleright of nose, the taste That tells us how much to know goodness we haste And among all this passion of colors, this fragrance Of fruits, I see a richer, sweeter elegance Our people bright giving this place its romance Women subtle of eyes, whose bodies dance Like fireflies around a shaded lamp, and men bold Though bent beneath their unforgiving loads, hold Work sovereign and do not crringe from sun and sweat The building is dingy with crumbling walls and parapet But like the lustered fruits that in cadence to the call Rise above the struggle turning back the ancient fall