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Saturday, June 13, 2015

The fjords

This is a poem I wrote while in Norway last year. We were on a ferry and out on the fjords [ inlets of water surrounded with cliffs on both sides]. I hope you like it


A bird finds its way around,
looking so small
on the vast land it calls home.
The mist on the highest mountain,
Is naught but clouds,
Though from a distance,
It might look grand
A promise of fresh showers,
Granted by the gray sky
 lay unspoken yet heard
The plain of glass,
that lies flat on the ground,
Is the water,
No longer controlled by the wind.
The bursts of colour that dot the green,
Are houses along the shore,
Right before we enter the fjords.

- Poetic Fanatic


  1. Nice contrast between the size of the bird and the sights all around...keep writing!


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