Swedish Highlands

Rain, icy fresh air and sea sounding,


as they wavered back and forth

with the force of the wind,

swaying as they did,

producing the sounds of the waves.

I like that, despite the fact that am so far away from any shore,

these trees reproduce the magic

the grey,

cloudy days on thousands of beach fronts around the world awash

with their swish swash on contemplating ears and eyes.

The panes bear the day’s raindrops …

This entry was posted in Poem. Bookmark the permalink.