One of the boons to living in the Netherlands is that I am close to other European and Scandinavian countries. This week I took advantage of that fact. I came to Sweden.
Trees stretch snowy throats up to the light,
frost lays lace over boulders,
a boat crackles through ice with her pointy nose
sails safe in their hold
waiting on spring when children will romp across planks
ropes knotting and unknotting in squares and eights
but for now the violets stay hidden like a shy child
while a roaring sun slips beneath a church steeple
reflection mirrored in the ice.
By the theatre the moon appears, sudden as a laugh
and thin as a lady's eyebrow,
a million stars hurry to their posts
on lookout until the sun rises,
melting the ice.
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