Meeting Benches World art in all forms
ONE MORNING IN SWEDEN
Morning, the wind blew, the flags waving and tended the area, there was ice under the white birches. Then passes someone dressed in black, walking with heavy steps, as if to go very far. The empty spontaneous road rises to a slope where he starts. Of course I knew him, I could tell him, and all the roads that path. Now the wind is already much less. The white birch trees are absolutely still, with a shiny ice at the foot, solar flare. By the horizon where the sky light is intense as here, you get a small tram on the rails. He pauses a little here and then disappears without anyone falls.
(Lars Gustafsson)
http://www.amazon.com/Selected-Poems-Lars-Gustafsson/dp/1852249978
