Trinkets

Footsteps crushed the dew as we walked to the Farmer's Market.
Chipmunks spun away from our path; dogs just sniffed.
We had nothing to offer but rectangular paper,
colored like money,
but the trinkets!!
Sausages for dogs
and angry ladies selling burritos in the mist.
Could the sausages also fortify the food wraps?
Moving on:
crystals, and dream-catch feathers, and
epoxied seeds roasted to perfection,
and overplumped breads with underplumped sellers,
augmented by push-thermoses left coffeeless
by the groupies, who bought every last homemade cinammon roll,
the one thing that coffee might have washed down.
After an hour, when gaunt breadman walked over to sausage lady,
to compare home cooking,
it was time to walk home,
pockets bare for the animals on the path
save the ubiquitous smell of dog sausage
everywhere.