Chris Canter
Leaving Amsterdam

Our city bikes took us by surprise into a world
of guileless cows, hogweed and horizon spires.
We knew six birds by name; they’d know us better.
A faithful shed knows the initials we left.

Seeds blew by with the lessons of primary school,
where people and politics were out of focus.
Toads’ lives were big for the first and last time,
polecats and stoats scurried about our pages.

A drizzle rushed us like ducks into a village.
We nibbled our lunch in a church’s cold grip.
A goat jumped a ditch to graze in the churchyard.
“I knew you’d remember,” said somebody’s grave.

Sheer wonder, we found, is never a first:
it lies low and returns in a flurry of forms.

<< return to the Table of Contents for New Series #4: Winter 2012, Volume 2 Number 2