The Fulton Fish Market
The Fulton fish market
Day breaks early on the misty water front
the streets wake outside South Street
to sounds of fog horns fading in the distance
Morning comes alive to the music of work
sounds of carts moving opening of gates
screech in the distance cranking wheels
box cars lining up to the morning rush
men’s voices yelling across the distance
as the morning sun circles the horizon
a rush of workers and people coming
to market near the tidal seas
buying selling moving
Portrait scenes in watercolor
light streams in reflecting off the rows
of fish
Raku tones of silvery pink and metallic hues
of baby blues
small fish big fish
Herrings silver slick blue fins
all lined up in old wooden carts
some wrapped in newspaper some in brown paper
Cod sardines mackerel trout
fish from near and far
from open seas to open streets
Workers drinking coffee
steam rising from cups in chilly morning air
a living working breathing market
on the ports of NY
where voices chant ancient songs of day
rumbling feet against the cold blackened streets
lifting hands calloused and swollen from long days work
The warm glow of reflected light of midday sun
against the grey sky
high lights bathe the withered faces
people stream in to shop and talk
women with wicker baskets gently
holding small children’s hands
pass by the narrow spaces
whispers of salty air flow through the gentle breeze
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