Kiss the earth
Have you sensed its scent, how soft it grows with rain how smooth its skin can be? Have you listened to its songs of surf on stones and soil? Have […]
Category Archives: Quadrille
Missing pieces
Once — before he bowed to age, he sieved his syllables from books, wringing substance into notebooks. Once — he still believed his puzzle could be laid; now — he […]
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 […]
No way back
I stumble on the cobbled lane this cul-de-sac, this rutted one-way-street. Nowhere I see a crossroad where a path diverges, nowhere a bridge leads back. How can a lie be […]
Laburnum and rain
It wasn’t the rain that evening in June, but the glare of laburnum, and his arms with your laughter. I watched you move closer; while closing your eyes. It wasn’t […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 