Listening to Hildur Gudnadottir
as winter makes a last stand and we retreat indoors
to watch this spectacle and hear the pine trees
bending against the cabin roof.
Liquid dreams caught in rabid waves
the grayish sea with green and blue
deep undertones blends into the sky.
Seagulls and ravens aloft squint
as ice pellets materialize from misty air.
I let my mind and visions
drift upon the rolling waves
in and out of present consciousness
the music soon becomes one
with the whitecaps and what seems
chaotic, random, restrictive
becomes calming and sublime.
stripped of all I know
and all that I think I am
I fall to me knees naked
beneath the warming sun
soon too hot to touch the baking rocks
and I lie down among them.
