Days of early spring,

so gray, so wet, so muddy.

Deciduous trees with their leafless,
out-streched branches,

begging the weeping sky

for a brief sunlight to pierce the white clouds

that almost hug the earth -

brief sunlight, a coin for the beggars

standing silent beside the

gravel roads snaking through

the brown fields,

dark evergreen woods of the taiga

slowly marching to the north.

One hot day, after hundred orbits

of the Earth around the Sun,

the forest will stand,

still short but ascending,

on the shore of the Arctic Ocean.

15.04.2013