Bright sun, sharp wind, the ferry nearing Marken.
What better way to start this afternoon
on the edge of what was once the Zuiderzee?
No bathers on the beach, no fighting ducks,
no economists dissembling spurious truths,
just neighbours neighing nostrums to each other
and a solitary man I thought I knew
once long ago who scribbles in a book.
Marken is a village across the water from Monnickendam.