Saturday, May 21, 2022




She lies down on her side and fills the valley.

In the lowlands her legs are a river;

alder trees and wild winter bushes

shimmer in the windy rain.

In the mountain her breasts are blue

and snow clouds sweep across them.

In the bend of her knee

are a thousand farms.

When she dances

rain clouds are broken apart

by the sun flying across her shoulder.

When she sleeps and dreams

a thousand geese sing her praises.


Robert Sund

First Glimpse of Swallows

Brooding Heron Press, 2022