To the meteorology of the Netherlands: a poem
Here the wind is a living thing,
like an army pushing me backwards where I came from,
and the wet cobble stones
turn into a pavement of melted butter.
And it howls,
through the badly isolated windows
the cracks in ancient walls,
it howls
like a Banshee, some mystical horde,
creature running from the winter chasing her.
Clouds spin around
make me wonder if it is not us
moving away
while they remain glued
to the ceiling of the Earth.
Hail and rain thrown on passersby
like confetti on a wedding day.
So is life
under the Dutch skies.
Claudia Costa
I come from sunny Italy, from the area of Milan, city of football, fashion and bad politicians. Maastricht will be my home for the next year while I try to become a writer/journalist and attend my Media Culture master at UM. During my almost 27 years on this planet I also lived in Germany and Czech Republic, although my dream is going back to a Mediterranean country. In the cold, Dutch rainy days I keep busy with writing, getting upset about Italian politics and learning about archaeology. The past is always better :)