Crossing the road is different here.
We gather in a crowd,
then, as if by telepathy,
we know it's time to surge.
Under the Delfts-blue sky
we shop for yams and sweet potatoes,
scarlet cotton for a dress.
It fell off the back of a lorry.
We love Mumís Dutch misunderstandings.
She must think London is full of lorries
with badly-fastened doors,
shedding goods into the arms of waiting traders.
If you have any comments on this poem, Judith van Dijkhuizen
would be pleased to hear from you.