Come yet again
You, my lover of leaving, moonchild, woman of rainbow, it doesn’t matter, like a window, closed can be opened. Moon sickle waxing, rain showers, sound of your footfalls; the wind […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Midsummer wake
We watched the solstice sky, and saw in silence how the dusk and dawn became a fleeting shadow as you beamed for birdsong never ceasing to our dreams. This is […]
Evening song
Edging to the water, thick the alder grow; there — in dappled light — a nightingale is trilling boldly for the day to end and on my way for home […]
Learning from students
In the recess deep in his chest he carries not the words of librarians passed, but the tantrums of toddlers, his childhood; In the folds of his bathrobe; not hidden […]
What is the wind?
When I met her barely awake in her wheelchair — she asked me: “What is the wind?” I looked at her hands and noticed how small they’ve become — Once […]
