Dandelion 62

 

It is waltzes, rather than hornpipes, being danced on the quaysides, of the Fete Maritime.

As weekend crowds throng the jetties.

Across the harbour, tables are full. Beneath the awnings, of the waterfront cafes.

Beyond, lie the mediaeval city gates. 

Which lead into a cool, shaded, world of close set, cobbled, streets.

Bustling plazas.

And sun dappled alleyways.

Where tempting aromas, of baking and roasting, hang in the still air.