ANOTHER DAY

It is a time of quieting.

Lazily a gull glides the shoreline;
Far off, the Bornholm ferry sinks
As does the sun to its horizon,
While blues turn opal green,
Then redden in the dying
Embers of a Swedish day.

The gentlest sounds of
Tired children, bidding goodnight
And sharing story times
Of trolls and monsters,
Echo the rhythmic falling
Of the waves across the bay.

The smell of sizzling meat
Mingles with the cool
Touch of lager spiced with
The scent of dune grass and
marinaded in the evening air.
With every sense, for sure,

It is a time of grateful quieting.



July 19th 2014