Day dusks in early afternoon;
and still the workers at their desks
remain head down, intent, as though
daylight still shone and night not come.
Your business in the Royal Library
ended, you say farewells and thanks.
Just take things easy; seven hours
and more you have until your evening
train will glide you south to Hamburg.
Relax, you do not have to rush,
amble the streets, soak in this city
that you will never see again,
walk south on Birger Jarlsgatan
mid-afternoon with all the feel
of late night shopping; ads and windows
glare hard to hold against the murk.
This is part of series of poems by Murray Alfredson about the Winter Solstice in Stockholm, Sweden.