La Reine Blanche


And the fresh moose lipped smack

Of cool beer, gently lapping;

The clack, clack of the French

Cricket pitch of a pool table,

Surrounded by bow-legged beeches,

And stirrup-worn boots

Tired of riding.

A breakfast bagette droops wearily

Across a forgotten saddle bag,

The day

Drowned in spilling and swilling beer

Like laughter

Frothing and streaming,



Caroline Baldock ©1978