When she sang in the white alley

When she sang

in the white alley beside

the covered fruit market

the cheesemakers

and yoghurt pourers sighed

in their large blouses

a legless beggar, perched

on cardboard in his colonnade

stopped twitching his lips

for five long seconds

the corner butcher held

his cleaver in mid swipe

a ringletted redhead’s irises

from their habitual brown     

burned gold streaked green

and the woman selling

strawberries laughed

remembering something

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grace                                                  in                                              pure white