Iceland

 

Sheep speckling green countryside
Towns that only know their name
The drone of draining
Waterfalls stuttering a shutter

Black sand dark like
Ashen wool of rams
Bred for wildness by
Frostbitten fingers
Lingering in towns that only
Know their name

Sunset hues at noon
Subside at the season’s
Undecided hour
Colorful painters
Do not capture this horizons’
Fresh feeling
Frost diaphanous
Music behind wools woven
In the color of cold and stiff
Tough like candle-lit moments
Alone with sulfurous affection
The glimpse of feather in a forgotten nest
Hearing a crash of salt water on crags
Inspired the birds who call out only their names.

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If you enjoyed this please check out my poetry books: How We Are Human and iPoems for the Dolphins to Click Home About