EAV Farmers Market: Saturday Morning Harvest

Lyrics

[Intro]
Saturday. Nine a.m.
The sun is still soft on the pavement.
You can hear them setting up.
The click of poles, the pull of canvas.
Come on. Let's go see.

[Verse 1]
First thing is the coffee.
See that little cart? Steam in the cool air.
Paper cup, warm in my hands.
We walk under the white tents, a sudden alley of shade.
The chatter starts, a low hum.
Neighbor to neighbor.
A dog barks, happily.
You smile. I see it over the rim of my cup.

[Chorus]
This is the Saturday morning harvest.
Not just the things in the wooden crates.
It's the voices, the laughter, the slow pace.
Filling our bag, filling our week.
Right here, this is the heart of the place.

[Verse 2]
Look at the hands of that farmer.
Dirt under the nails.
He holds up a tomato like a jewel.
Says it’s a Cherokee Purple, tells its whole story.
The smell of damp earth from the potatoes.
The sharp green of the kale.
Peaches from down south, their skin like velvet.
He gives you one, bruised just a little.
The juice runs down your chin.

[Chorus]
This is the Saturday morning harvest.
Not just the things in the wooden crates.
It's the voices, the laughter, the slow pace.
Filling our bag, filling our week.
Right here, this is the heart of the place.

[Bridge]
One bunch of collards.
A loaf of bread, still warm.
A small jar of honey.
Our tote bag gets heavy.
Each thing a promise.
For the kitchen table, for Tuesday night.
This small ritual, week after week.
Watching the seasons change on these tables.

[Outro]
The sun's higher now.
The hum is a full chorus.
Our bag is full.
Let's walk home.
The slow way.
Yeah. The slow way.