A VISION OF LAPLAND

The treeless fells rising

to the low gray clouds,

gray their own backs bent

by ages of wind and snow and ice.

Beyond them the gray vastness

of the polar sea,

the waves carving the shores

with the same

tireless sculptor's hands.

This was your land,

this desolation

where the mind transcends

the bounds of flesh

and like the sounds

we make

becomes one with it all.

01.08.2019