A hot air balloon hung motionless
in the sky, we stepped out
of the vintage car

by some inventory
on the cobblestones
behind us, my older self stood

on the iron bridge watching
how we and the dog looked
around in the new world

which rose
half-dreamed, half in brick
from the mist of the old

Belgian land beneath
the clouds of time
and the threat

of the wind that will
blow away everything
dear to us