How could it be? - musings and memories in my ancestral home of Iceland

so still

in the forest

i can hear the moss

growing

tissue thin

bark peeling

from birch, stretching

water laps onto stone

bathed in light

and lichen

somewhere

the smell of tern breath

arctic upwellings

of lanolin

blends with bog

and rot

and renewal

i can almost smell

the glacier carving new faces

in the fjall

and the taste of rain

like tasting my own blood

something familiar

how could it be

the spruce casts

shadow puppets

forming the figures

of my childhood dreams

how could it be