47° N

The violent tides of winter gather

A viscous ocean umbra of white air high above my life races by headlong, determined to to smash itself on the wall of the mountains

air determined to take down mountains, the mountains, a gate, a reservoir, a dam

“I only need time,” it thinks

The birds, dizzy in turbulence, the ecstasy of tossing their bodies relentlessly one over the other, swimming, diving

Everything shining with the wet of the rain, the breath from the sea exhaled on the rocks, sequins and fish scales and glitter

Shining from light that comes from nowhere: there is no sun under this sky, the dark glows

Golden wet leaves that weigh nothing, billowing in a show to fly and not rot