home - leaving Norrland
The day of sun developed; the wooden church
(6) spires
the faint sighs of cloud in
a clear blue sky,
the chorus of trees waiting to begin
the concert.
Where does the sea find its home?
Where does the beetle in the pit find
its home?
Where do the racing insects of a
day
return, but to now and its noise,
like the squeaking of a carriage?
Labels: Poems
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