Keli Ottarsson  

poet, Iceland

Spring

Spring stumbles
from the south
of the mountain
over the top
with
the
newborn
summer

in its arms.
It hurries down
the slope forgetting
the summer which
trips from its arms
like golden honey.
As usual, spring enters
our village empty-handed.

Arts Dialogue, June 1996, Page 14, Illustration by Jacqueline Wassen, The Netherlands.