By the Amstel

Evening settles without effort.

The river moves
as it has all day,
but slower now,
or it seems that way.

We sit at a small table
close to the water.

Two glasses.
Bread between them.
Nothing arranged
beyond what is needed.

A light comes on above us.
Then another,
further down the street.

Their reflections hold
for a moment
before breaking.

We don’t speak.

There is no reason to.

A bell sounds somewhere,
not near enough to locate,
just enough to mark the hour
we’re already inside.

You look at the water
as if it might change.

It doesn’t.

Still, we keep watching.

People pass behind us.
Their voices rise,
then disappear.

The air cools slightly.

We stay.

Not for long.
Long enough.

Later,
this will seem clearer
than it is now.

For now
it is only this:

a table,
the river,
the light holding
until it doesn’t.