The heat of my passion rises,

pulling me apart and running over my flesh.

The sea pulling the tendrils of my shorelines.

I huff and snort like horses after a run.

Tears and sweat of my heroes and widows,

run downstream and over waterfalls.

Ancient lumber jacks shave my trees away like a beard,

and the sheep sheer my grass stubble.

Whales sing melodies softly in my ears.

The thunder of Viking footsteps – a drum.

Birds fly about like unbraided hair.

The ravens like loose eyelashes,

carrying wishes.

My breath hangs in rolling mists all around me.

My eyelids hang heavy with darkness in winter,

but wide in the wee hours of summer.

Sagas float on my wind,

in tongues old as time.

I am new.

Always.

If you listen,

you will hear the story I have to tell.