Les derniers jours d'hiver (2)

Norway 2006





I feel lifted to the north.
Blanketed warm, at home and comforted by the solitude as we sometimes are.
And the quiet came through. Sound vanquished by the layered snow.
Lines blurred distinct yet crumbling into the sight of other objects, like the way things look through the tears cupping our eyes in the bitter cold.
I'm at home in those shacks, growing a beard.
I cut wood by that river, surrounded by my breath.
I can see all the restraint that raises beauty to the brink of that old memory,
the one we all share sehow, in the grey yellow clumps of grass that spot the ground.
My steps along the path, then the fall of the latch on my white fence makes a sound dull.

Joshua Paverud