This post is sort of a mini-ode to the Hollywood Farmer’s Market. The last day of the market for the season was this past rainy Saturday. It prompted my first poem in about 20 years and some images taken last week.
Kabocha, pear, bell pepper, onion, chard. The market air filled thickly, hunting for our meals. It's crisp now, autumn giving dare to cold of winter. Where to go? Inside.