Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Swedish Spring

Bits of varnish flake off
as I slide the knife over the rough
wood of last summer's paddle

The smell of varnish and tar
mix with the North wind that comes from far
away where there is still snow

Here where the grass is brown but the buds are small
you plant,
singing to the tiny green shoots to make them grow.

- Stockholm, April 2009

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