Breasting the light

It was a small market this morning, with only the fruit and vegetable stall whose owner had reorientated it to make the most of the sun, and a clothes stall. The few people who were out were thankful that here in the Midi even on the coldest days we can feel warmth in the sun. The market place is part of my One Street

And a draft poem to accompany the image:

Breasting the light

Curves lit by slanting rays from the sun
at its lowest furthest point, below the plane trees
and their few remaining leaves,
two stalls in a cold market:
oranges glint their warmth, aubergines
glow dark and fat in a wooden box with
fennel for winter flavour, avocados from Andalucia's
more tropical coast, courgettes, red peppers a memory
of summer days, all huddled now in their crates.
Across the place false-breasted woollen clothes,
frames in fantasy female forms, reach
for the light, point towards the longer longed-for days.