View from the Centre


(c) P.M. Kroonenberg

Gliding on a windy summer’s day
ducking for low bridges
we sail past floating homes.
Shameless sheets of glass
look out over reeds and lily pads;
a grand piano fills most of
a bobbing living room.
Back doors on the water,
flower creeper gardens spill
from wooden jetties.
Nothing on the shore
but a post box
behind a hedge.
Here they sit in afternoon light
wave benignly as we chug
slowly by.
Fine ridged waves tease
back and forth, boat to boat,
passing rumours from house
to travellers and back.
Beyond this quiet green-black world
the city still stands firm
and solid feet move cobbles
and cathedrals are fixed
through solemn ages,
thundering important thoughts
in crashing harmonies.