quinta-feira, 12 de março de 2009

There it will be springtime…

[um poema meu para hoje]


between us, the freezing
roll of ocean waves.
a nordic winter.
fjords full of icy dreams.
whalers riding their tall ships
into a glacial fog.
the sea rocking harder,
months to the nearest coast.


but i can hear you breathing.
hear you prying your way
into my thoughts.
boats are coming to shore now
beneath some high pasture
where furry cows munch
on new clover,
paw through the last
thin layers of snow.
now waiting is only a brief season,
a gentle prelude,
a tethered pony standing
patient in the moonlight.
i think you can hear me.
the wind has settled.
it is warm here in this clearing
where crocuses open their mouths
to the spring.

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