On the corner of the Westerstraat watching people on the outdoor market. It is raining. I am the only one sitting outside on a cafe terrace watching-
the bohemian
the gypsy
the tourists and cloth sellers
women in hijabs
and very tall blondes

I am waiting, I say.
In de regen
in the rain.
een thee met melk
een appel tart
alstublieft
if you please.

I cradle my lunch
close to me
shield it from the showers.
I smile at the ones who I (in my great wisdom)
think could use it
-and still I am waiting

At last,
A blazing four minutes and twenty seconds of sunlight and blue sky.
In this country, in the winter, you learn to worship the sun
if only arising from the long pursuit.