Leaving The Hague *excerpt
A grey silken mist
hovers over the fields,
miniature houses,
each as sweet as ginger bread,
huddle behind trellises of summer blooms.
A lonely cow grazes
almost hidden by the brume,
defiant windmills twirl.
I gaze imprinting each passing image.
Sunlight has just begun
to filter through, canals lie calm
while we dawn-travellers chat
and flap through broadsheets
in English and Dutch.
Leiden majestically enfolds us
as if to say, Why travel further?
Students lift bikes onto the wi-fied train.
Bricks as pale as the 50s reflect
the glowing sun as it spreads
like bushfire on the horizon.
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