We are many called for, seeking north. I see an elderly couple waiting; they have mountains in their eyes. We are leaving Stockholm at the break of spring to seek the winter still clinging to the north. As always the train is late, but we all know it doesn’t really matter. The train will move us through the night, and tomorrow we will know if we will arrive in time or not.
There is a scent of steel, as weighty wheels screech to a halt. With a final rush we find our compartments, as if the city’s pulse wants to make a last impression before we settle in, but already as we leave the platform, the familiar calmness wind us in. We are cradled by the rails, we are lulled to rest, and when we briefly wake at night, it does not really matter where we are. We are somewhere waiting between the icicles and snow, and the willow catkins.
We arrive at winter, and the sky is clear. Since it’s past the equinox of spring, we still have many hours left till dark. We decide to leave for the first cabin, you are as eager as I am to meet the mountains’ breath.
even the snow –
clinging to birches
longs to melt
Today we have a guest blogger at dVerse Haibun Monday, and she prompts us to write a compact haibun considering one of your own journeys, or even a travel experience you have read about.
February 29, 2016