Men were gathering in the harvest. Womenfolk were washing the sweat out of yesterday's clothes, keeping a wary eye on children playing in odd corners of the market place. Dogs of the villagesized town were sniffing round the fountain where a gendarme sat sleeping. Flies hovered around the dogshit. A young girl, soft blonde hair gleaming in the autumn sunlight her white dress hemmed with dustgrey, brought a donkey to drink at the fountain. Her cheeks were radiant but blue eyes were hard cool under the heat of the sun. Even today it isn't fun for a Gascony peasant girl stared at by tourists. GERALD ENGLAND.©1997 http//www.nhi.clara.net/gehome.htm Bio. notes: Gerald England. I'm a British poet, living on the edge of the Pennines with my lace-making wife, a son and a Manchester terrier, and work around Oldham as a financial advisor. I've been active on the Small Press Scene for over 25 years and edit New Hope International My poetry has been published in many countries and been translated into Croatian, German, Japanese, Spanish, Portuguese & Russian.