Market Day in Provence by Jules

In rememberance of Jean Giono

Market day, on a blustering May morning

And the blue sky clear as glass

Wiped clean by the wind with an open hand

Sending clouds like soapsuds flying

And nevertheless

You set down your jarsof shining black olives

Your little earthenware pots of honey

And bundles of pungent herbs

And purple lavender on the paving stones

In the violet shadow of a plane tree.

Market day can scarcely be put off

If rain threatensyou put up your umbrella.

If it's windy, you just wade through it

Waving your armsLike the sails of a windmill

Shouting out your prices all day long.

You lose your voice

Your eyes smart

Your cheeks are scorched by salt and wind

But you make a profit all the same!

Then in the quiet of the evening

You go wandering through sheltered lanes

Where the wind threads more peaceably

Clutching your bulky wallet

Full of bits of grass and sand

Looking for a place to sleep

Something tasty to eat

And a bottle of good wine!

© 2000 Jules