Sniffing flowers sweet as honey,
Begging for donuts.
Near glass jars of jam,
My feet hit the ground in front of
Bright red strawberries.
Stall owners call out.
Beans, hanging like strings, float.
Crisp squash lies waiting.
Brown potatoes sit.
Piles of spinach start to wilt.
The Farmers’ Market ends.
I was six years old,
Skipping through the stalls,
A donut finally in hand.
Olivia Berven attends Saint Paul Public Schools. She is in seventh grade.Print This Page