Odes to Alpharetta Arts Fest · Track 1 · opener
Alpharetta Arts Fest
The Alpharetta Arts Fest — held annually mid-May at The Grove at Wills Park (175 Roswell St, behind the Alpharetta Community Center). Saturday-Sunday 10am-5pm. White artist tents in rows under the tall pines, one-of-a-kind ceramic and fiber and metal pieces from artisans who drove in from across the country, the food court with kettle corn and the lemonade stand, the Kidz Zone where children sit at folding tables doing sand art and face painting (butterflies, tigers, the occasional skull) and dig at the treasure-mining trough for amethyst chips. Free parking at Amana Academy on S. Main. Run by Splash Festivals. Sisukiro walks the rows of tents, addresses each artisan's display like a small benediction, lands at the food court for a paper plate of barbecue and watches kids carry sand-art bottles back to their parents under the pines.
Lyrics
[Intro]May sun through the tall pines.Another year.The white tents are up at The Grove.[Verse 1]Parked over at Amana, walked down South Main.Past the community center, you can smell it.Not just the kettle corn, not just the barbecue yet.It's the smell of canvas and damp pine straw.A city that wasn't here yesterday.A city that will be gone by Monday.175 Roswell Street, for just two days.[Chorus]And oh, the quiet work of hands.All these patient hours, driven in from Tennessee, from Florida.Unpacked this morning in the cool May air.A thousand small devotions, sitting on a folding table.Waiting for a glance.Waiting for a home.The Alpharetta Arts Fest.[Verse 2]Row three, tent C.Hello, you little blue ceramic bowl.Perfect for holding keys, or nothing at all.Just holding the light.And you, hammered copper leaf, catching the sun for a necklace.And you, wild splash of color on a silk scarf.Someone stayed up late with you.Someone dreamed you up.[Chorus]And oh, the quiet work of hands.All these patient hours, driven in from Georgia, from the Carolinas.Unpacked this morning in the cool May air.A thousand small devotions, sitting on a folding table.Waiting for a glance.Waiting for a home.The Alpharetta Arts Fest.[Bridge]And over there, the Kidz Zone hums.A different kind of art.A tiger face, still wet, trying not to smudge.A butterfly taking flight on a five-year-old cheek.Serious work at the treasure mining trough, sifting through sand.For a chip of amethyst, a piece of fool's gold.A little plastic bottle, layered with red and blue sand.A monument to a Saturday.[Verse 3]The food court line is long. It always is.But the sun is warm on my neck.Paper plate of pulled pork, a sweating cup of lemonade.Found a patch of grass under a pine.And I just watch.I watch the little girl with the butterfly facecarry her sand art bottle so carefully,both hands,back to her mom.A treasure.[Outro]The sun gets lower.The shadows of the pines stretch across the white tents.Splash Festivals packs it all up tomorrow.But today.Just today.This city is real.