On my bike, cycle-wheeling, feeling like a bird,
Swooping and triumphant, heard,
“Ladies and gentlemen I’m proud to present”
In coloured silk shoes for a famous descent,
A whole troupe of us,
like a circus.
I had to react
And heave on the bars,
To avoid an impact
With shortened memoirs.
Falling in a dreaming down,
Towards an English market town,
Shops and wares,
Cross and squares.
I knew the place,
Knew just the place,
To eat a dish of fish with grace
And white sauce
For a first course.
My brother and I conferred,
We knew without a word
Of the others good opinion,
As only brothers (and sisters) can.
We arrived at the restaurant,
Lights, lovers, trestle tables,
Under open sided gables,
A kitchen full of joyful bustle,
Glimpsed through a serving hatch,
A place with no need to match
Any other plenitude,
Full of young people and fine food,
The master in his apron
Came out to confer
With me and show me his pictures,
Like a connoisseur.
Too many
To remember any,
But I chose one
And he and I stood side by side
To see what had been revealed
And in this way,
What was to say
Was said and sealed.
For my part of the bargain,
I promised I would send him,
A picture of the sea
From Skagen.
