Hanging in there, more rarely grasped

beyond the fair and the well-mannered...



Memories...
already scenting after a fresh summer forest,
febrile search for wet moss, resin and pine needles,
tiny wild flowers, and wind and rain-worn wood.



Small poetic coincidences to be used
for sentences and images in this cute conversation:





Sells fragile hardness;


Warm light on the tree branches


Wild strained sorrow





In superstition


all of these field furrows shine


like a new value





Register new memories:

Fetching firewood.

Odal ground.

Forest lakes.

Mist.