Klostergaten Cafe
Veiling Bergen’s tree-swathed
heights,
Sending us scurrying for the café
Where we order beer and flat white
And shelter beneath its awning.
Sitting at pastel pink and green
tables
Bright against the grey wet
afternoon, we sip
And watch a boy splash his
skateboard
Through the torrent that floods the gutter
And threatens to lap around our feet.
After the rain we walk, exploring
the timber-house
Lined lanes clinging to the city’s
steepled flanks,
And its gingerbread row of Hanseatic
warehouses
Once filled with stockfish, the
stiffened, desiccated corpses
Of sleek, silver-scaled,
sea-teeming cod.
And find a blue eyed cat, white
and grey tailed,
Framed in the angle of a red and
blue door,
Poised like a Suiseki, a splash of
life and colour
Against austere white timbered
walls
And the lead-grey, rain laden sky.
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