A wander through the weekly Wednesday street market of my town reveals much to stimulate the observant poet. It's the stimulus of place and the colour and movement within. Here are a couple of poems that owe their origin to this market space with its wide array of stalls and curious shoppers. Girl at the Market I walked by her On Market day Wednesday in Mornington. She was browsing raspberries And blueberries Her hair, Remarkable. -The colour of ripe oranges. Alan j Wright Street Performer A small girl Stands on the street Amid the passing shoppers Scratching out hesitant notes On a brave violin Her open case attracts A smattering of pitiful coins Tossed in by tolerant supporters And the tone deaf. Her mother sits close by -but not too close Offering a stoic smile. A mother’s love Shines through And the sun peeks out From behind the morning clouds And birds return to the nearby trees ...